Peppermint Creek Inn Page 5

  She didn’t answer. Confusion brewed in her dark eyes.

  “It looks like you’ve had some trouble around here. How long has it been happening?”

  “Since you showed up a few days ago. Drink!” she ordered.

  But he couldn’t drink. He blinked in surprise at her, not quite grasping what she’d said.

  “Did you say a few days? How many days?”

  She must have seen a flash of warning in his eyes because she quickly withdrew the steaming mug from him and placed it on the tray before answering.

  “Two days. You’re heading into the third night.”

  “Oh, man, I have to go!” he tried to pull himself up but a sharp, searing pain drilled a hole straight through his back into his belly making him gasp aloud.

  “You feel that?” Her brows knotted with concern. “That’s a bullet hole. You won’t be going anywhere for a while. So just sit back and relax will you? I don’t want a repeat performance of the last few days.”

  Her large brown eyes suddenly took on a mischievous gleam and her features softened. She pointed to a nearby open doorway. “And if you have to go, the bathroom is over there. I’m getting a little tired of empting the bedpan for you.”

  Her apparent stab at humor did nothing to remove the anxiety shooting through his system. She wasn’t safe with him around.

  “You don’t understand. I have to leave. Now!”

  Gritting his teeth against the searing pain slicing through his back and the battering ram inside his head, he made a second attempt at pushing aside the blankets.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” she cried and in one quick fluid motion her warm velvet hand dusted like sizzling steel against his chest sending one hell of a jolt shooting through his system. He stopped short, thoroughly enjoying the erotic feel of her restraining fingers loosely entangled in the curly hairs of his bare chest.

  Gently but firmly she pushed him back against the pillows and hesitantly withdrew her hand. He didn’t miss the windblown roses suddenly sweep across her cheeks before she turned her face away. With slim trembling fingers, she tried to smooth out a non-existing wrinkle on the comforter.

  Was he imagining her shaky fingers? The wonderful blush? Did she also feel the attraction between the two of them?

  It took him a moment to find his voice. When he did, he tried hard to keep it steady.

  “Look. It’s important that I keep moving.”

  Her head snapped up in sudden anger. “On the other hand if you bled to death, you wouldn’t be moving at all, would you?”

  “We all have to die someday,” he quirked.

  “Well, that counts you out, then. Only the good die young.”

  He felt the faintest smile crack his dry lips.

  “So, are you just being shy or don’t you have a name?” she asked softly.

  “I—” His name was suddenly right there, on the tip of his tongue. And then it retreated with lightning speed, straight into the deep black abyss where his memories should have been stored.

  He looked up and was surprised to see genuine worry lurking in those warm liquid fudge depths. Worry for him? Somehow, the thought seemed oddly endearing.

  But all the wishful thinking in the world wouldn’t change the facts. The facts were anyone who helped him would end up dead. He had no idea who he was, why he’d come here, and why he was being chased by the cops or why they wanted him dead. He just knew they did, especially after remembering the cop shooting him in the back.

  “I’m going to be brutally honest with you, Mrs. Clarke.”

  “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

  “It’s better if you don’t know who I am. Better yet, for your own safety, pretend you never saw me.”

  Sara lifted her brows, an amused twinkle in her eye. “You mean, like you’re a figment of my imagination?”

  “Exactly.”

  The twinkle in her eye quickly disappeared and she frowned. “I’m sorry, but to be brutally honest as you so kindly put it, I don’t lie.”

  “Not even for your own safety?”

  “Nope.”

  He sighed in frustration. “Great. Just great.”

  “Why are you being so serious?”

  “Because I don’t know who—” He cut himself off, suddenly realizing he’d almost given himself away.

  “You don’t know who you are, do you? That’s what you were going to say?”

  How the hell did she know?

  “It wasn’t hard to guess. The way you acted the night we met. Demanding me to tell you your name. It was an odd request. While you were delirious, you kept asking me to help you find out who you are. Can you remember anything at all?”

  “Everything’s fuzzy. Bits and pieces. Images. Nothing I can put my finger on.”

  She frowned. “I’ve heard that memory loss is quite common after head injury and after a major trauma. In most cases people remember within a few days.”

  His stomach clenched into a tight knot. “Most cases?”

  “Others take a little longer.”

  “How much longer?”

  “I’m not a doctor.” She hesitated before adding, “But what I’ve read it could be months. Maybe years. It’s rare though.”

  Shit!

  “I don’t think I have that long. Someone’s after me. And they want something. I can give it to them or not. Either way, I’m a dead man.”

  She visibly shivered beside him. “Do you have any idea who wants to kill you? And what do they want?”

  He decided to tell her the truth. “I don’t know what they want, but I know the cops want me dead.”

  —

  Sara studied the stranger intently. His profile was defiant. He appeared to fully expect her to tell him the bump on his head had knocked more than a few screws loose, and there was no way in the world she would believe him. Funny thing was, she did believe him, because when she put everything together, it made sense.

  He’d arrived beaten, a bullet in his back and handcuffs dangling on his wrist. While delirious, he’d said things. Things, which led her to believe the police didn’t have a very high opinion of him.

  Sara sighed deeply.

  Her splitting headache still cried for her attention and she wished she could just climb into bed and throw the covers over her head. But that wouldn’t solve anything.

  “What else do you know?”

  His forehead crinkled in disbelief. “You believe me?”

  “Don’t look so shocked. Tell me what you remember.”

  The briefest hint of a relieved smile passed over his lips.

  “Listen. I don’t want to burden you with my troubles. You’re already in danger just by helping me out.”

  “You’re going to have to trust someone. Right now all you’ve got is me.”

  He didn’t say anything. Yet she noticed he still seemed tense. She needed to do something to cheer him up. Do something to get him to trust her.

  “You know what,” she said with a bit more enthusiasm than she felt. “You need a new handle.”

  “A handle?”

  “A name. What’s your favorite?”

  He shrugged solemnly. “Don’t know. You choose.”

  A name instantly popped into her mind. Yet she hesitated to use it. After all she’d already given it to someone else. Someone just as helpless and totally dependent on her as this stranger. And she’d failed him. Horribly.

  Sara swallowed hard and pushed aside the disturbing thoughts. Pressed them into the corner of her soul, like one presses a precious flower for future remembrance between the covers of a weighty book. She buried them deep beneath the fragile pages that carried her fears, hurt and dashed hopes from the past two and a half years.

  Blinking back the sudden sprig of hot tears, she took a deep breath, faced the stranger and tried to present a proper smile, but her lips just wouldn’t cooperate. She noticed the odd expression creasing his rugged face.

  “Is something wrong?” His gentle tone of voice almost
unraveled her.

  For a moment, she stared into his bright emerald green eyes and was overcome with the strangest urge of telling him her deepest fears and sharing her secrets. She’d never had such a strong urge to tell anyone this before. Now, without any reason she wanted to tell this man everything. To blurt out what had happened to her husband. To tell him about the shadow who’d been haunting her life.

  Sara caught herself.

  Was she nuts? What was the matter with her anyway? She should have her head examined. She didn’t even know this guy.

  Yet she wouldn’t mind getting to know him better. Much better.

  She wouldn’t mind wrapping her hands around that thick cock of his. Maybe taking his delicious-looking organ into her mouth and swirling her tongue all around that mushroom-shaped cockhead.

  Nip her teeth along the silky skin covering the rigid shaft.

  Watch him squirm and buck as she took him deep into her throat.

  “Mrs. Clarke?”

  She blinked rapidly and quickly looked away so he couldn’t see the reddish tinge of heat that must be crawling along her cheeks.

  “Thomas. How’s that?” She blurted out the name.

  He said nothing and she cast a quick peek to see his reaction. She knew by the smile on his face that he liked the name.

  “Thomas.” The name rolled off his tongue with ease. “Tom. Mmm. Sounds good. It has a certain ring about it. Don’t you think?” He cocked a curious eyebrow. “Why’d you pick it? An old boyfriend perhaps?”

  The question almost toppled Sara. For a split second, she again wanted to spill her guts as she’d never done to anyone before. But the instant passed and she recovered quickly.

  Impulsively she reached out to gently tug on his scruffy beard. His hair felt rough beneath her fingertips. Coarse. Sexy.

  She noticed the soft gasp escape his lips and with lightning speed, Sara withdrew her hand.

  “Because you remind me of a stray tomcat. Whiskers and all,” she replied shakily.

  He smiled a damned irresistible sexy smile that made her toes curl. Then he sunk his head a little deeper into the pillows.

  “More like something the tomcat dragged in,” he mumbled and his eyelids began to droop sleepily.

  “You said it, I didn’t,” she laughed as she tucked in the sides of the blankets to keep him warm.

  She wanted to ask him more questions, but they’d have to wait until he felt stronger.

  “Mrs. Clarke?” he said sleepily and blinked to keep his eyes open.

  “Yes?”

  “Thanks for taking care of me.”

  “Thank you for not dying on me. I would have been a very unhappy camper after all the work I put into you.”

  “Why are you helping me?”

  “You saved my life. And because you asked for my help.”

  “I’ll have to figure out some way to repay you.”

  “You can repay me by getting some beauty rest, Tom.”

  She didn’t miss the grimace etch along the wonderful lines around his mouth.

  “I look that bad, huh?”

  “Worse.”

  He sighed and he slid even deeper into the pillows.

  “You’ll get no arguments from me. At least for now.”

  His eyelids finally fluttered closed and from the steady rise and fall of his gorgeous, naked chest, she knew he slept.

  Sara frowned.

  Amnesia. The man has amnesia.

  What she wouldn’t do to forget her past, to forget that one stormy night. To forget all the pain she carried inside her heart.

  At one point, she’d almost succeeded in losing her pain forever by taking the easy way out. But she was better now.

  At least she thought she’d been better until that tree had come hurtling down toward her.

  Would she be dead if Tom hadn’t been here to grab her? Would she have simply stood there and accepted death?

  She didn’t know. What she did know was when the tree was coming toward her, for a split second, she wanted to forget her pain.

  But he’d saved her.

  She found herself studying his face as she’d been doing a hundred times over the past couple of days.

  She marveled at how much she loved those crinkled lines edging like crows feet from the corners of his closed eyes. And she really loved the tender lines around his mouth.

  While he slept, an almost youthful innocence splashed across his features making him very appealing. It was this innocence that allowed her to reach out and brush a stray curl of dark hair from his forehead.

  As she touched him, electricity shot up her fingertips. In less than a heartbeat, she wanted to kiss him.

  Slowly, without thinking, she bent down, her mussed hair falling across his face. His delicious peppermint tea-scented breath cascaded tenderly around her cheeks pulling her closer to him.

  Gently, before she even realized it, she’d brushed her lips across his hot mouth. His beard and mustache tickled her face erotically. His full, sweet lips trembled beneath her feather-light kiss and suddenly he mumbled something.

  Horror-stricken, Sara backed away from him, fully expecting his eyes to snap open at any second.

  Thankfully, they didn’t and he remained fast asleep.

  As she watched him sleep, a whirlwind of emotions stampeded through her.

  Fear perhaps being the most prevalent. Fear for the stranger lying in her bed. Of what would happen to him when he was better. And he was definitely getting better.

  Already a bit of color had seeped into his face. And she’d noticed the intense way he looked at her. Noticed the sexual hunger in his bright, alert gaze.

  She felt the hunger, too. An ache for her vagina to be filled by him. At that thought, exciting spirals of delight raced like a tornado through her and she tried to stop them by reminding herself that this man, this total stranger, was probably going to spend the rest of his life behind bars, or at the very least, die a very tragic death. Somehow, her mind wouldn’t allow her to dwell extensively on that possibility.

  Her heart wanted to believe he was a decent man, caught up in some bizarre misunderstanding.

  Yet she couldn’t help wondering what would happen when he regained his memory.

  Would he revert to his criminal ways? Would he use his powerful arms against her, adding murder to his long list of self-described dream-ravaged criminal activities?

  Sara eyed her sleeping Tom. He mumbled something again, and then fell silent. What would happen to him if his pursuers caught up to him? Would they beat him again? Shoot him again?

  She bit her lip, battling the sudden icy wave of terror she felt for his safety.

  He’d told her to pretend she’d never seen him. But how could she pretend? His simple touch had set her body on fire, opening a new world.

  A world filled with exciting sexual cravings she wasn’t sure she could ignore.

  He was the first man she’d kissed since—

  She shuddered involuntarily.

  What had possessed her to do such a horrid thing? And with her husband’s wedding ring still on her finger.

  Yet Tom’s kiss had felt so perfect.

  Magical.

  It made her forget her pain, if only for an instant. It reminded her there still was a life to live. And she didn’t have to live it the way she’d been doing so.

  Sudden guilt overrode the sensuous kiss.

  The truly wonderful kiss that she pressed like a treasured fragile flower in between the tender pages of her book. Another keepsake to add to her collection of shed hopes and unfulfilled dreams.

  Chapter Four

  Sara knew the direction her dream was heading yet she was helpless to stop it.

  She’d been late for an exam in her still-life drawing class. Slept in because the storm had knocked out the power in her section of the city and screwed up the alarm on her clock radio.

  Now as she quickly maneuvered her car through the downtown core of New York City, she spotted the
flashing cruiser lights in her rearview mirror. At first, she figured they weren’t for her. After all, many people broke the rules of the road without being caught.

  But the pursuing vehicle drew closer with lightning speed. Within seconds, the cruiser climbed within a few feet of her rear bumper.

  “Dammit!” She pounded the wheel in frustration. “Now I’ll be really late.”

  Biting her lip nervously, she pulled over to the curb. The police car followed suit and parked behind her. She stared into the rearview mirror as a tall, stocky officer got out of the cruiser and slowly headed toward the driver’s side where she quickly rolled down the window. Her pulse quickened when she stared up into his gorgeous cornflower blue eyes.

  Easy, Sara. She heard the low warning inside her head. This could be the guy for you. She would have laughed out loud if she wasn’t sure the officer would write her a ticket for doing that too.

  “Good morning, ma’am,” he drawled.

  So polite. He probably had to be in his line of work. But he didn’t have to be so cute.

  “May I see your driver’s license please?”

  Sara swallowed hard and groped inside her purse with terribly shaky fingers, quickly finding her license. She tried to tell herself the shakiness was only excitement due to an imminent ticket, but deep down she knew it wasn’t true. The man literally made her swoon.

  “I’m sorry, officer. I’m late for my art class. Last night’s storm knocked out the power and my alarm clock didn’t go off and now I’m late for my final exam.”

  She handed him her driver’s license.

  His face screwed into puzzlement as he looked at the plastic-sheathed license.

  “Sara Brady?”

  Sara nodded. She recognized the look on his face. Many people reacted the same way when they discovered who they were talking to.

  “The Sara Brady? The wildlife artist?”

  Again Sara nodded, suddenly feeling really embarrassed. “One and only.”

  Now she would really be late.

  “Wow! I’ve seen your paintings. The ones you donated for the Police Charity Ball this Saturday night. They’re really lifelike. I enjoyed them. A lot.”