His Unforgettable Fiancée. Teresa Carpenter

not dim-witted, you know.” He sprawled in her desk chair with his jacket in his lap. “Just memory-challenged.”

      The corner of her mouth twitched at his show of humor. “All the more reason to stick with what you know until you’ve seen the doctor.”

      “I know you, and you smell better.”

      Now, why did that send a rush of heat to her cheeks? “I’d take you, but my duty is up in thirty minutes.”

      Probably a good thing. JD had managed to shake her up more than a little over the course of a mere hour.

      “Check that.” A deep voice announced. She recognized one of her other patrol officers. She stood to see him escorting a happy prisoner toward the back. “Brubaker, the new sheriff, has been monitoring the radio calls. Since I was bringing someone in, he told Parker to stay in the field. He wants you to take John Doe to see the doctor, and I’m to cover the rest of your duty here.”

      “Who will replace me at the hospital?”

      The officer shrugged. “I’m sure Brubaker will send someone.”

      Right. She clenched her hands at having her control yanked away early. Brubaker had no authority to usurp her orders before midnight. But there was no use arguing.

      “Okay,” she said to JD. “Let’s go.” She’d already put her box of personal items in her SUV, so she grabbed her backpack and slipped into her hip-length leather coat.

      The effort it took JD to gain his feet showed as it had in the cell, but he managed it and donned his jacket without uttering a sound. He stayed silent on their trip to her hybrid Escape.

      In the vehicle he braced his head on a raised fist. “So I’m a John Doe.”

      “You’re familiar with the term?”

      “An unidentified person or body. I watch TV, the movies. I guess that means you didn’t get a hit on my prints or you’d have a name for me.”

      “Right on both points.” She stopped at a light on Main Street and three women in party hats, winter jackets and heels laughed and joked as they crossed in front of them. The light changed and she pulled forward.

      “What happens if I don’t get my memory back right away?” He slowly turned his head to pin her with a pain filled gaze. “How do you figure out who I am?”

       CHAPTER TWO

      HOW WOULD THEY identify him? Good question. Woodpark was a small town with limited resources. They’d have to reach out to a larger city, or perhaps the feds. Grace didn’t have the heart to remind him it wouldn’t be up to her.

      “Let’s see what the doctor has to say before we worry about that.”

      A grunt was her answer.

      A few minutes later she pulled into the hospital parking lot. Like the sheriff’s office, the emergency center did a brisk business on New Year’s Eve. Grace walked to the front of the line.

      “Sheriff,” the clerk acknowledged her and then glanced at JD. “We’re very busy tonight.”

      “So I see. You’re going to have to make room for one more. I have a prisoner with a head wound.”

      “Take a seat and I’ll let the doctors know.”

      “Of course. Please let them know I’m quite concerned.”

      She found him a seat in the crowded waiting room. He looked about to protest at taking the last chair, but he sat instead. Whatever his background, he’d learned some manners. That he ignored them was testament to the extent of his injury.

      “You sounded worried,” he drawled.

      “Head wounds are dangerous.” She leaned against the wall next to him. “We already know of one complication.”

      “So it wasn’t a ploy to advance our case?” He lifted his gaze to hers and arched a dark brow.

      Under the bright lights she noticed his eyes were leaf green. And a hint of red played in his dark hair. She turned her attention back to the front desk. “Maybe a bit of a ploy.”

      “And calling me a prisoner?”

      She allowed a small smile. “Oh, yeah, that was totally a ploy.”

      He laughed and then groaned and clutched his head.

      She sobered. “It’s also true. You are a prisoner until morning. No dying on my watch please. You can’t imagine the paperwork involved.”

      “I might be touched if it didn’t just pass midnight. You’re officially off duty.”

      A glance at her watch confirmed his claim.

      “Sheriff.” The clerk had returned. “Dr. Honer will see you now.”

      Grace checked the door but no sign of her replacement magically appeared. JD walked past her and then stopped.

      “Are you coming?” he asked. “I can handle this on my own if you prefer.”

      “You’re in city custody. I’m coming.”

      She followed him to the back and stood in the hall while he changed into the paper hospital gown the nurse provided. It was a small room. She took heart in the fact he would look silly sitting there, decked out in the flimsy robe. Too bad he didn’t use it. When she entered the room, she found he’d stripped down to gray knit boxer briefs.

      OMG.

      Cough. Cough. Good gracious, she nearly choked on her own tongue as drool flooded her mouth. Swallowing hard she made her way to the corner, trying hard not to stare at all the hard lines and muscular definition on full display.

      “You were supposed to put on the gown.”

      “It tore. Don’t worry about it. Turns out I’m not modest.”

      Of course not. Turned out she had a bit of a voyeur in her.

      Confronted with the sight of all that flesh and muscle—toned, and tanned, and tantalizing—she missed at first glance that a wound marred his nice six-pack. Still pink and edged with staple marks, the slash ran about six inches long under his right rib cage.

      “You’ve been stabbed.”

      He glanced down at himself. The action made him sway, so he quickly lifted his head. “Where?”

      She moved closer to point. “It looks pretty ragged, which tells me it wasn’t a switchblade. Maybe a serrated blade. Or a piece of glass, possibly a metal fragment. Any of that spark any memories?” If shock value had any power to activate his memory, learning he’d been stabbed should do the job.

      Leaving her question unanswered, he used long fingers to explore the wound. He flinched a little, indicating the cut was still tender. Or perhaps it was just the thought of being stabbed.

      “Does it hurt?” she asked, hoping to get him talking. He revealed so little she had a hard time reading him. Part of it had to do with his missing memories, but she had the sense his reticence went deeper than that, was actually a part of his personality.

      “Sore, not painful.” Emerald eyes met hers. “It’s not from this accident?”

      “No.” She shook her head as she examined the wound from a safe distance. “I’d say it’s a few weeks old. The doctor might be able to tell you more.”

      As if on cue, Dr. Honer, short and balding, opened the door. He addressed his patient first. “I’ll be with you in a minute.” Then he gestured to Grace. “Can I see you, Sheriff?”

      She stepped into the hall and he pulled the door closed behind him.

      “Sheriff Brubaker called.”