Billionaire's Contract Engagement / Money Man's Fiancée Negotiation (24 page)

“I'd like him to stay,” she said.

“Actually, I do have patients I need to see.” He flashed Melody an encouraging smile and gave her arm a gentle pat. “The nurse is just down the hall if you need anything.”

That wasn't very reassuring. What did they even know about this man? Did they check out his story at all, or take him on his word? He could be a rapist or an ax murderer. A criminal who preyed on innocent women with amnesia. Or even worse, maybe he was the person she had taken that cash from. Maybe he was here for revenge.

She tucked her purse closer to her side under the covers, until she was practically sitting on it.

The phrase
never show fear
popped into her head, although from where, she didn't have a clue. But it was smart advice, so she lifted her chin as he grabbed a chair and pulled it up to the side of her bed. He removed his jacket and draped it over the back before he sat down. He wasn't a big man, more lean than muscular, so why did she feel this nervous energy? This instinct to run?

He eased the chair closer to her side and she instinctively jerked upright. So much for not showing fear. Even in repose the man had an assuming presence.

“You don't have to be afraid of me,” he said.

“Do you honestly expect me to just take your word that we're engaged?” she asked. “You could be.
anyone.”

“Do you have your driver's license?”

“Why?”

He reached into his back pants pocket and she tensed again. “Relax. I'm just grabbing my wallet. Look at the address on my driver's license.” He handed his wallet to her.

The first thing she noticed, as she flipped it open, was
that there were no photos, nothing of a personal nature, and the second thing was the thick stack of cash tucked inside. And yes, the address on his license was the same as hers. She knew without checking her own license because she had read it over and over about a thousand times yesterday, hoping it would trigger some sort of memory. A visual representation of the place she'd lived.

Of course, it hadn't.

She handed his wallet back to him, and he stuck it in his pocket. “That doesn't prove anything. If we're really engaged, where is my ring?” She held up her hand, so he could see her naked finger. A man of his obvious wealth would have bought the woman he planned to marry a huge rock.

He reached into his shirt pocket and produced a ring box. He snapped it open and inside was a diamond ring with a stone so enormous and sparkly it nearly took her breath away. “One of the prongs came loose and it was at the jeweler's being repaired.”

He handed it to her, but she shook her head. She still wasn't ready to accept this. Although, what man would offer what must have been a ridiculously expensive ring to a woman who wasn't his fiancée?

Of course, one quick thwack with the ax and it would easily be his again.

She cringed and chastised herself for the gruesome thought.

“Maybe you should hang on to it for now, just to be safe,” she told him.

“No. I don't care if you believe me or not.” He rose from his chair and reached for her hand, and it took everything in her not to flinch. “This belongs to you.”

The ring slid with ease on her finger. A perfect fit. Could
it just be a coincidence? It was becoming increasingly difficult not to believe him.

“I have these, too,” he said, leaning down to take a stack of photos from the inside of his jacket. He gave them to her, then sat back down.

The pictures were indeed of her and this Asher person. She skimmed them, and in each and every one they were either smiling or laughing or …
oh,
my … some were rather racy in nature.

Her cheeks blushed brightly and a grin quirked up the corner of his mouth. “I included a few from our
personal
collection, so there wouldn't be any doubt.”

In one of the shots Asher wore nothing but a pair of boxer briefs and the sight of all that lean muscle and smooth skin caused an unexpected jab of longing that she felt deep inside her belly. A memory, maybe, or just a natural female reaction to the sight of an attractive man.

“I have video, as well,” he said. She was going to ask what kind of video, but his expression said it all. The look in his eyes was so steamy it nearly melted her. “Due to their scandalous nature, I felt it best to leave them at home,” he added.

Melody couldn't imagine she was the type of woman who would let herself be photographed, or even worse videotaped, in a compromising position with a man she didn't trust completely.

Maybe Asher Williams really was her fiancé.

Ash's first suspicion, when the doctor told him Melody had amnesia, was that she was faking it. But then he asked himself, why would she? What logical reason did she have to pretend that she didn't know him? Besides, he doubted that anyone in her physical condition could convincingly
fabricate the look of bewildered shock she wore when the doctor told her Ash was her fiancé.

Of course, she had managed to keep the baby she was carrying a secret, and the affair she'd been having. After the initial shock of her betrayal had worn off, he'd felt nothing but seething, bone-deep anger. After all he had done for her—paying her living expenses and college tuition, giving her credit cards to purchase everything her greedy heart had desired, taking care of her for
three
years—how could she so callously betray him?

Coincidentally, just like his ex-wife. He hadn't had a clue then either. One would think he'd have learned his lesson the first time. And though his first instinct had been to walk out the door and never look back, he'd had an even better idea.

This time he would get revenge.

He would keep up the ruse of their engagement and take Melody home. He would make her fall in love with him, depend on him, then he would betray her, just as cold-heartedly and callously as she had him. And he wouldn't lose a single night's sleep over it.

“What was I doing in Texas alone?” Melody asked him, still not totally convinced.

Ash had anticipated this question and had an answer already prepared. “A research trip.”

“Research for what?”

“A paper you were working on for school.”

She looked puzzled. “I go to school?”

“You're in law school.”

“I am?” she asked, looking stunned.

“You have a year to go before you take the bar exam.”

Her brow furrowed and she reached up to rub her temple. “Not if I can't remember anything I've learned.”

“I don't care what the doctors say,” he told her, taking her hand, and this time she didn't flinch. “You'll get your memory back.”

Her grateful smile almost filled him with guilt. Almost.

“So you just let me go on this trip, no questions asked?”

He gave her hand a squeeze. “I trust you, Mel.”

The comment hit its mark, and the really pathetic thing was that it used to be true. He never would have guessed that Melody would do something like this to him.

“How long was I gone?”

“A few weeks,” he lied. “I began to worry when you stopped answering your phone. I tried to find you myself, but that went nowhere fast. I was beside myself with worry, Mel. I thought something terrible had happened. I thought … I thought that you were dead. That I would never see you again.” The fabricated emotion in his voice sounded genuine, even to his own ears, and Melody was eating it up. “The police were no help, so I hired a private detective.”

“And here you are.”

He nodded. “Here I am. And I would really like to hold my fiancée. If she would let me.”

Melody bit her lip, and with gratitude in her eyes, held her arms out. She bought his bull—hook, line and sinker. This was almost too easy.

Ash rose from his chair and sat on the edge of her bed, and when he took her in his arms and she melted against him, soft and warm and a little fragile, he had a flash of something that felt like relief, or maybe satisfaction, then he reminded himself exactly what it was that brought them to this place. How deeply she had betrayed him. His first
instinct was to push her away, but he had to play the role of the loving fiancé.

She let her head rest on his shoulder and her arms slipped around his back. The contour of her body felt so familiar to him, and he couldn't help wondering what it must have been like for her, holding a stranger. Some deep place inside him wanted to feel sympathy, but she had brought this on herself. If she hadn't cheated on him, hadn't stolen away like a criminal, she never would have been in the accident and everything would be normal.

As her arms tightened around him, he did notice that she felt frailer than before, as though not only had she lost pounds, but muscle mass. Their building had an exercise room and as long as Ash had known her, Melody had been almost fanatical about staying in shape. He wondered if this would be a blow to her ego.

But how could it be if she didn't even remember she
had
an ego? Or maybe that was something that was inborn.

Under the circumstances Ash didn't expect the embrace to last long, and he kept waiting for her to pull away. Instead she moved closer, held him tighter, and after a moment he realized that she was trembling.

“Are you okay?” he asked, lifting a hand to stroke her hair.

“I'm scared,” she said, her voice small and soft. Melody wasn't a crier—in three years together he could recall only two times he'd even seen the sheen of moisture in her eyes—but he could swear that now he heard tears in her voice.

“What are you scared of?” he asked, stroking her hair and her back, pretending to comfort her, when in reality he felt that she was getting exactly what she deserved.

“Everything,”
she said. “I'm afraid of all I don't know,
and everything I need to learn. What if I'm never.” She shook her head against his chest.

He held her away from him, so he could see her face. Melody was a fighter. Much like himself, when she wanted something, she went after it with all pistons firing. It was what had drawn him to her in the first place. But right now, he couldn't recall ever seeing her look more pale and distraught, and he actually had to harden his heart to keep from feeling sorry for her.

She had brought this on herself.

“If you never what?” he asked.

Her eyes were full of uncertainty. “What if I can't be the person I was before? What if the accident changed me? What will I do with my life? Who will I be?”

Not the heartless betrayer she had been before the accident. Not if he had anything to do with it. He would break her spirit, so no other man would have to suffer the same humiliation he had.

A tear spilled over onto her cheek and he wiped it away with his thumb, cradling her cheek in his palm. “Why don't you concentrate on getting better? Everything will work out. I promise.”

Looking as though she desperately wanted to believe him, she leaned her head back down and sighed against his shoulder. And maybe she did believe him, because she was no longer shaking.

“I'm getting sleepy,” she said.

“I'm not surprised. You've had an eventful morning. Why don't you lie down?”

He helped her lie back against the pillows. She did look exhausted. Mentally and physically.

He pulled the covers up and tucked them around her, much the way his mother had for him when he was a boy. When he'd been sick, and weakened by the radiation,
she'd somehow managed to be there every evening to kiss him goodnight, despite working two, and sometimes three jobs at a time to keep their heads above water. Until she'd literally worked herself to death.

Though Ash was declared cancer free by his thirteenth birthday, the medical bills had mounted. His father had been too lazy and most times too drunk to hold down a job, so the responsibility of taking care of them had fallen solely on his mother. And due to their debt, annual trips to the doctor for preventative care that wasn't covered by their insurance had been a luxury she couldn't afford. By the time she'd begun getting symptoms and the cancer was discovered, it had already metastasized and spread to most of her major organs. The news had sent his father into a downward spiral, and it was left up to Ash to take care of her.

Eight months later, and barely a week after Ash graduated from high school, she was gone. For years, he felt partially responsible for her death. Had it not been for his own cancer, they might have caught hers sooner, when it was still treatable.

The day of his mother's funeral was the day Ash had written his father out of his life for good. His aunt had contacted him several years later to let him know that his father had passed away. Advanced liver cirrhosis. Ash didn't go to the funeral.

By then Ash was living in California, and going to school. Like his mother, he worked two and three jobs to make ends meet. Despite that, he'd somehow managed to maintain a near-perfect GPA. After graduation he'd married his college sweetheart and landed a job with Maddox Communications, convinced he was living the American dream. Unfortunately things had not been what they seemed.

The day he was offered the position of CFO, what should have been one of the best days of his life, he'd learned that his wife was having an affair. She'd claimed she did it because she was lonely. He'd worked such long hours he was never there for her. She sure hadn't minded spending the money he earned working those long hours, though. Not to mention, when he
had
been home, the “I have a headache” excuse was a regular. The irony of it would have been laughable had he not been so completely devastated.

Granted, theirs had never been a particularly passionate marriage, but he'd thought they were relatively happy. Apparently not. And the worst part had been that he hadn't suspected a thing.

Ash had thought he was through with women for good, but only a few months after the divorce was final he met Melody. She was young and beautiful and bright, and he was fascinated by her spunk and enthusiasm. Probably because he saw much of himself mirrored back in her eyes.