Snowbound Targets (HQR Romantic Suspense) Page 6

  “No, I don’t think you do.” Dragging his hand through his hair, he appeared to be considering his next words. “I won’t take advantage of you. You aren’t whole, Lucy. Hell, we don’t even know your real name.”

  “That’s not my fault,” she said, feeling the need to defend herself. “I don’t understand how you can hold that against me.”

  “I don’t. I’ll be brutally honest, here. I’m a man. When you kiss me like that, I want more.”

  “I do too,” she said softly.

  “You don’t know what you want.” He growled the words. “How can you? We just met a couple days ago. You might be married, have a husband and a family somewhere looking for you. How would you feel later, once you remembered everything, if you and I made love?”

  He had a point. A damn good one. Acknowledging that with a curt nod, she wished it made her feel better. “I’ll keep that in mind from now on,” she promised, blinking back unwanted tears. She wouldn’t cry, not over this. As far as she knew, none of this was her fault. All she had to do was try to heal herself, pick up the pieces of her life and move forward.

  And if she continued to desire him, well, she’d deal with that too. She might not know a lot about herself, but she felt as if she was strong. She’d have to be, to make it through all of this.

  “Friends?” he asked, holding out a hand.

  Though she really didn’t want to touch him again, she took it, pretending she didn’t feel a tingle of connection. “Friends,” she agreed. “When can we go outside and check out the snow?”

  Evidently, her question took him by surprise. Releasing her hand, he blinked. “You want to go out in the snow?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  Eying her as if she’d said something crazy, he finally shrugged. “I’ll have to shovel a path from the front. If it’s really deep, we won’t be able to go far. I’ve got skis and snowshoes, but only one pair of each.”

  “That’s OK. I don’t want to go far.” She smiled. “Just into the front yard. I want to make a snowman.”

  After a startled look, he laughed. “Do you know how?”

  “I think so.” She shrugged. “If not, I’m sure you’ll show me.”

  “Are you? Honestly, I haven’t done that in years.”

  “Then it’s time you did, don’t you think?” Hands on hips, she eyed him.

  Cocking his head, he eyed her back. “Is that a challenge?”

  She laughed. “Maybe it is.”

  “Challenge accepted. Wear layers. I’ll meet you at the front door in fifteen.” With a wave, he disappeared into his bedroom.

  A snowman. She could see an image plainly in her mind of what such a thing was supposed to look like. Whether she’d ever actually built one before or not, she had no idea. But getting out into the fresh air and snow sounded like fun.

  Grabbing a few things out of her duffel, she layered on a couple of shirts, stepped into a pair of leggings and then back into her jeans. Two pairs of socks allowed her to still slip her feet into her boots. Even though they were more like hiking boots than snow boots, she figured she’d be warm enough.

  Jason came out of his room a moment later, rubbing his hands together. “Are you ready?”

  “Yep.” She could scarcely contain her excitement. Having snagged her parka, she zipped it up and put on her hat and then her hood. Finally, she slipped on her gloves.

  When she looked up, Jason met her gaze, his own intense. “Do you think you remember how to do this?” he asked, one hand on the doorknob.

  “I’m not sure.” She shrugged. “Let’s get out there and find out.”

  The instant they stepped out the door, it was like they’d entered another world. Cold and still and breathtakingly beautiful. The snow seemed to be powdery rather than wet and heavy, which made for easier movement but would make building a snowman more difficult.

  How she knew all this, she had no idea. The workings of her mind continued to perplex her.

  “Do you want to make this a team effort?” he asked, grinning. His breath made puffs of steam in the air.

  “Team,” she replied promptly. “I think one snowperson is enough, don’t you?”

  “I agree.” He knelt down and began gathering snow. She chose a spot a few feet away and did the same. They each pushed their snow into the middle, piling it up. When they’d accumulated enough, Jason began shaping it into a ball.

  Despite the cold, time passed quickly. They took turns rolling the bottom ball in snow and patting it down until it was large enough. Same with the middle. When they finally got ready to make the head, she let him do it by himself. She went looking around for sticks to use as arms, rocks or something to use for eyes, and anything that might work for a nose.

  With snow burying everything, locating anything wasn’t easy. She lucked out finding two relatively similar-sized rocks to use for eyes. And a couple of broken branches for arms.

  “I’ve got some pebbles we can use to outline a mouth,” Jason said, standing back and surveying their handiwork.

  After some more foraging, they managed to locate everything else they needed.

  “He looks perfect,” Lucy said, so happy she twirled around until she fell backward into the snow. “I’m making a snow angel,” she said, moving her arms and legs. Part of her knew only children did this, but the rest of her didn’t care.

  He smiled and watched her, not commenting. But when she’d finished and struggled to get to her feet, he grabbed her hand and pulled her up. “Nice,” he finally said, releasing her immediately and eying her handiwork.

  Just like that, her joy faded. There was something familiar about this, but as usual, she couldn’t quite place her finger on exactly what. And the more she tried to catch it, the more the memory danced away in the wind.

  Belatedly realizing he watched her, clearly waiting for a response, she thanked him and turned away, not wanting him to see her frustration.

  “Are you cold?” he asked, evidently picking up that something was wrong.

  She seized on that as an excuse. “Yes. I think I’m going to go inside.” Without looking at him, she hurried toward the cabin. When she stepped up onto the front porch, she stamped her feet, hoping to shake off most of the snow.

  Right behind her, he did the same.

  Inside, she kept busy peeling off her gloves and hat, removing her coat, and finally, her wet boots and socks. She placed the boots close to the woodstove and draped the socks over part of the stove. Crossing to her duffel in her bare feet, she grabbed a dry pair of clean socks and put them on. Since she didn’t have house shoes, she decided to wear sneakers.

  She blinked back tears, muttered an excuse and escaped to the bathroom. This was one of the things she hated the most about having no memory. She had not the slightest idea why she suddenly wanted to cry.

  * * *

  As Lucy disappeared into the bathroom, Jason divested himself of his own damp clothing. Standing close to the woodstove, he added another log and held his hands out, hoping to warm them.

  He felt...happy. It had been years since he’d built a snowman. Surprisingly, he’d enjoyed the experience, mostly due to the unfettered joy Lucy had taken in it. Watching her had been more entertaining than the actual construction of their snowman.

  She’d laughed and teased and worked hard. The work and the cold air had brought color to her cheeks, making her even more beautiful. If such a thing was even possible.

  He’d never met another woman like her. This rattled him. He wasn’t sure what it was about her, but he realized he could easily come to care for her. Which wouldn’t be true, as neither of them knew exactly who she was. He’d always considered himself a realist, not one to allow himself to be duped or deluded into believing something that wasn’t true. He dealt in facts, not abstracts or suppositions.

  Maybe his heightened feelings w
ere due to how badly he’d needed to find some beauty in his life, some of the lighthearted joy and innocence that seemed to come to her so easily. After bearing witness to so much hatred, so much human suffering and death, being with someone as uncomplicated as Lucy felt like a welcome breath of fresh air.

  Of course, this wasn’t fair to her. Like all human beings, once Lucy regained her memory, she’d be the sum of all her experiences, her wants, her needs. She might even become a completely different person.

  Odd how sad thinking about that made him feel.

  After warming his hands, he’d gone into the kitchen and rummaged in the cupboard until he located what he needed to make them both hot cocoa. He’d done a few internet searches on amnesia, but he felt like he’d get more accurate information from an actual physician. Time he called his friend Phil, the doctor.

  Lucy emerged from the restroom, sniffing the air as she came into the kitchen. “That smells perfect,” she said. “And makes me think I should be associating it with childhood memories.” She frowned, clearly trying to access those.

  He waited, hoping for her sake that something, even the smallest memory, would surface.

  After a moment, she shook her heard. “Nothing.”

  Instead of commenting, he slid her mug of hot cocoa across the counter to her. Snagging it, she grinned. “What, no whipped cream?”

  “Sorry, I’m all out,” he responded, wondering if she realized that she’d made that connection at least. It might be small, but it was better than nothing.

  While Lucy sipped her cocoa, he used the satellite phone to place the call. As usual, he had to leave a voice mail. He knew his friend would get back to him when he had a chance.

  Once he left that quick voice mail, he reached for his own cup and took a sip. Perfect, he thought, as the hot drink warmed its way down his throat.

  “Thank you for today,” Lucy said softly, eying him over the rim of her mug. “I truly enjoyed playing in the snow.”

  “No problem.” Hesitating, he decided to go ahead and ask. “Something happened to you, right before we came in. What was it? Did you have another memory?”

  “No.” She sighed. “I kept feeling like there was something I was supposed to remember. It felt like whatever it was kept dancing right outside of the edge of my vision. Very frustrating.”

  “I can imagine. That call I just placed was to one of my friends who’s a doctor in the Springs. I’ve done a fair amount of research on amnesia, but I want to hear what he thinks.”

  “That’s great,” she said, taking another sip. “This really would be so much better with whipped cream. Just so you know.”

  “I get the point. Next time I pick up supplies, I’ll be sure and get some.”

  She rewarded that with a broad smile, which had him grinning at her like a fool. To cover, he drank more cocoa.

  They ate leftover spaghetti for dinner. After they ate, once again they did the dishes side by side, which should have felt uncomfortably domestic, but didn’t. He tried the television, pleased to note the satellite receiver was working again. Scrolling through the guide to see what choices they had, he almost asked her what she liked to watch. Luckily, he caught himself in time.

  He settled on a lighthearted sitcom, deciding that since it was only thirty minutes, he could always change it if she didn’t appear to like it.

  She sat beside him on the couch, sticking as close to the other end as she could. They watched the show in silence, making him wish he’d asked her to play poker or even Scrabble instead.

  When the show ended, he glanced over at her, meaning to ask her if she wanted to watch something else. She’d fallen asleep, her head pillowed on her arm.

  His heart caught midbeat. He debated on whether to get up and pull the blanket over her, then decided to leave her alone for now. After the nightmares she’d had the night before, she probably was exhausted.

  Jason watched a couple more sitcoms before the evening news came on. Once again, Kabul led off the program. Another suicide bomber had struck, this time a hospital. The loss of life had been tremendous.

  He felt that same old bitter ache, aware of the futility of his need to do something, anything, to make it right. He couldn’t; he’d tried. Reporting the unbiased facts had been his job, was every journalist’s job, but at some point he’d come to feel he should have done more.

  When that story ended, he waited to see if there would be a report on his missing friend, Rick Engles. But there was nothing, which didn’t entirely surprise him. At this point, no one seemed to know if he’d gone AWOL, had been kidnapped, hurt or what. Jason knew his friend well enough to know he’d never desert, so he’d been either taken or injured.

  Jason clicked off the television and got up to go to bed. Lucy hadn’t stirred at all, so he quietly covered her with the blanket and went into his room to get some sleep.

  * * *

  When he opened his eyes in the morning, he realized Lucy must have slept through the night peacefully. Either that, or he just hadn’t heard her. He hoped it was the former.

  Taking care to move as silently as possible, he showered and dressed before heading into the kitchen for his normal coffee. To his surprise, she was already there, seated at the kitchen table, with a half-empty cup of coffee.

  “Good morning,” she said, greeting him with a hesitant smile. “Did you sleep well?”

  “I sure did.” He smiled back. “I’m guessing you were free of bad dreams last night.”

  Though her smile wavered slightly, she nodded. “I think so. Either way, I slept. Do you think the roads will be passable today?”

  “It depends on if the plows made it up this way. I haven’t heard them, so I’m guessing not yet. There aren’t a whole lot of people who are year-round residents this far up. Since we’re not anywhere near a ski resort, we don’t get vacationers in the winter.”

  Nodding, she sipped her coffee. When his had finished brewing, he pulled out a chair opposite her and sat. “Are you hungry? I have some eggs that I can fry up with English muffins if you’d like.”

  “I can do that,” she said. Judging by her expression, she’d surprised herself. “I think I know how to cook something like that.”

  This time he decided not to comment on what obviously seemed another memory. “If you don’t mind, then go for it,” he said.

  She drained the last of her coffee and got up. “Where do you keep your skillet?”

  “Cupboard next to the stove. Do you need any help?”

  “Nope. I think I’m good.”

  Relaxing, he enjoyed his coffee while he watched her move around the kitchen. She had the kind of feminine grace that he attributed to dancers or athletes. Again, the mystery of her intrigued him. What kind of work had she done before? What kind of circles did she move in? Were her friends artsy or educated or down-to-earth types?

  Did she have a lover or husband somewhere, and children?

  The thought ended his fantasies quickly, as it should. He needed to try to find some objectivity where she was concerned.

  “Here you go,” she said, sliding a plate in front of him. She’d given him two perfectly cooked sunny-side up eggs and a toasted English muffin. She set a glass of orange juice down in front of him, plus the jar of preserves. Then she went back and fetched her own plate.

  He dug in. Damn, he’d forgotten how nice it was to have someone cook for him. And there he went again. Making more of something ordinary than he should have been.

  After they ate, they fell into their usual routine of doing the dishes side by side. While he had a bit of cabin fever, he didn’t feel right leaving her here on her own.

  She went to take her shower. While she was gone, he pondered possible activities. He had a snowmobile in the shed out back, but it hadn’t been started since last winter and he wasn’t even sure it would run. He could check on that, but
he knew he had some snowshoes and cross-country skis around here somewhere.

  Digging in the front closet for his snowshoes, he was surprised to find another pair. His old pair from childhood, worn and with a few crosspieces missing. But still serviceable. Now if only he could locate another pair of poles. After a bit more searching, he found another set of poles in his bedroom closet.

  Lucy emerged from the bathroom, toweling off her hair. “What are you doing?” she asked, eying the pile of stuff he’d dug out of the closet.

  “Would you like to learn how to use these?” he asked, holding up the old pair. “They’re snowshoes.”

  She came closer, taking them from him and examining both sides. “They seem to be broken.” She pointed out the areas with holes. “Will they still work?”

  “I don’t see why not.” He eyed her feet, which were much smaller than his. “I’m thinking they might fit you well enough to work. It’ll get us out of the cabin. Are you game?”

  “Definitely.” Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “Let me get my hair a bit dryer and put some layers on. I can’t wait to do some exploring.”

  Bemused, he nodded and watched her go. Her enthusiasm was one of the things he liked about her.

  Lucy returned a few minutes later, clearly already bundled up. “You aren’t ready yet?” she chided, making him laugh.

  “I will be. But you need ski pants for something like this. I only have one pair and I know they won’t fit you.”

  “It’s OK. I have long underwear, leggings and jeans on. Layers. I promise I’ll let you know if I get too cold.”

  He got dressed quickly and once they were both suited up, he handed her the snowshoes and poles. Grabbing his own, he opened the front door and stepped back for her to precede him. When she passed him, she glanced sideways up at him and grinned.

  For a half second, he froze, caught up in her powerful beauty. Then he shook it off and followed her, closing the door behind him.

  Outside, he squinted into the blinding, glittering whiteness. Cold, with the air so crisp and clear they could see their breath frost, but beautiful. Ahead, miles of undisturbed snow stretched out before them. Unblemished save for the area where they’d made the snowman.