Memory Reload. Rosemary Heim

those full lips of hers. He couldn’t help noticing how they shone with moisture from the lemonade. He shifted, trying to get comfortable, damning himself for noticing every little detail of her appearance.

      “She did a fine job. Are you from…” She cleared her throat again. “I can’t quite place your accent.”

      “Don’t guess I sound much like any one place. I moved around quite a bit when I was growing up, mostly in the South.”

      She nodded and the silence crept back in. Ryan wanted to ask her some questions of his own, but decided to bide his time. Maybe if she asked a few more questions, got to know a bit more about him, felt a little more comfortable, she’d begin to open up herself.

      “You don’t live here?” She looked around the retro-chic kitchen.

      “No, just visiting. Jamie lets me stay here whenever I have the time.”

      “Nice friend.”

      “Yeah.” Ryan took another swallow of lemonade to keep from asking her anything.

      “Where do you call home?”

      “Nowhere in particular.” He shrugged. “I’m kind of a nomad. My job takes me away for extended periods of time, so I’ve never really set up a permanent base.”

      “How sad,” she murmured. Her face reddened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

      Ryan shook his head and waved away her concern. “No offense taken. I just never saw any reason to settle down. Homebody is not in my nature.”

      “What do you do?”

      “At the moment, nothing. I’m…between assignments.”

      “But a government job?” She busied herself wiping the condensation from the sides of her glass.

      Ryan nodded and waited for the next question. He had a pretty good idea what it might be.

      “So, what, are you a secret agent, or something like that?”

      “Something like that.”

      “Oh.” She laughed, a bit nervously he thought. “I guess you probably can’t tell me much more.”

      “Not much more to tell. I’m posted to the Office of Professional Responsibility. It’s my job to smoke out bad agents and see that they pay for their treason.”

      She straightened in her chair, looking at him with a slight tilt to her head.

      “I could give you a number to call. A couple numbers, actually. My boss and a buddy. They’ll vouch that I’m on the up-and-up.”

      “I can call them directly? Any time?” The idea seemed to reassure her. She eased back into her chair.

      “Any time. It’s not a problem.” He leaned back in his chair, balancing on the back legs. It wasn’t much of a stretch for him to reach the little message pad and pen hanging on a hook by the cordless wall phone. The chair settled back on all four legs. He wrote the numbers, explaining as he went. “The first number is for Jacquelyn Kingston. She’s my supervisor at the Bureau. John Danse is a fellow agent I just worked with. He’s not exactly a buddy, but he’ll vouch for me. The last number is for this house.”

      He pushed the paper across the table. She studied it for a moment, then carefully folded it and tucked it into her T-shirt pocket.

      Ryan’s mouth went dry. The sharp edges of the paper stood outlined between the softness of the cotton material and the fullness of her breast. He lifted his glass and downed most of its contents. The icy liquid had little cooling effect.

      “You work for a woman?” Her voice pulled him back to the issue at hand.

      “Yeah. She runs a tight ship. That’s not easy with the bunch of retired military personnel she’s got in her organization. We all tend to be pretty independent. Except when we’re working as a team.”

      “You don’t look old enough to be retired.”

      “I reckon thirty-two is old enough for pretty near anything.” His smile widened as a soft blush colored her cheeks. “Did you want to make that call now?”

      “Call? Oh.” She refused to meet his steady look. Her glance darted about the room, resting momentarily on the phone behind him. “Well, actually…that may be a bit more difficult to do than I thought.”

      “Do you need the phone book?” He stood this time and opened a drawer, pulling out the phone book. He set it and the cordless phone’s bright red handset on the table in front of her.

      She stared at them as if they might change into snakes and bite her. She tentatively picked up the phone. Her long, slender fingers stroked the keypad. Ryan shifted again and pushed away the image of those same fingers running over his chest and belly.

      This was crazy. He didn’t care how long it’d been since he’d been with a woman. Reactions this strong and immediate were not normal.

      The thin pages rustled in the silence as she flipped through the phone book with one hand. Her other hand clutched the phone.

      The soft overhead light played on the various rings she wore. Each finger hosted a different style—silver, gold, tiny gemstones trapped in the finest of wire, an openwork band. Only the ring finger on her left hand was bare. There, a wide patch of pale skin revealed a story all its own.

      Great. Just what I need, a married woman. She’s probably a runaway wife and having second thoughts but doesn’t want to ask her husband to come fetch her.

      The thought startled him. Why should he feel such disappointment that this woman might be tied to some other man? And none of that explained why she was carrying a gun she didn’t know the first thing about using.

      “I can leave you alone to make the call if you’d like,” he offered, even though his mind shouted a denial. He wanted to know who she planned on calling.

      “Thank you, but that’s not necessary.” She rubbed her forehead, hiding her eyes behind her hand. Her long black hair fell forward as her head bowed, curtaining her face from his view. “I’m not sure where I’d go.”

      Her quiet words stilled the noise of his inner voice. Without thinking, he reached across the table and touched her hand. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

      “I think I must be.”

      “Can you tell me?” He leaned close, straining to catch her soft words.

      She shook her head.

      “I might be able to help.”

      Finally, she lifted her head and met his look. Tears trailed over her cheeks. More pooled in her eyes. “Can you tell me who I am? Because I haven’t a clue.”

      Chapter Two

      Her words hung in the air.

      Okay, so she’s a runaway wife having an identity crisis. Tread lightly, boyo.

      He ignored his mental warning and shifted out of his chair to kneel on the floor in front of her. He touched her hand, the hand once again clutching the shoulder strap draped over her knee, intending to lend some comfort and encouragement. The chill clinging to her long fingers startled him. Gathering both of her hands into his, he began chafing them, trying to ease the cold. He met her tear-filled eyes with a steady gaze. “It’ll be okay.”

      She blinked her eyes closed and shook her head. “How can you know that?”

      Ryan couldn’t stop the grin pulling up one side of his mouth. He shrugged. “Because things always work out. You couldn’t know this, but I live a charmed life. When I found you on the beach, you became part of it. So, I just naturally know everything will be all right.”

      “You really believe that?”

      “Nothing’s ever happened to show me different.”