Harlequin Special Edition November 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Weaver Christmas Gift\The Soldier's Holiday Homecoming\Santa's Playbook (28 page)

Of course, she didn't want him to think that she doubted his ability, but she'd feel a lot better if she could check things out herself.

So she decided to fix some sandwiches and ride out to wherever he was working, under the pretext of bringing him lunch. The man never turned down food. And while he ate, his stomach would be too busy to allow his brain to question her intentions.

Ten minutes later, she delivered one of the thick ham sandwiches to Tomas, who was cleaning out the stalls in the barn. Then she saddled Rosabelle, the gentle mare she usually rode, and tied a rolled up quilt behind the saddle. When it was secure, she stowed the impromptu picnic lunch in the saddlebags.

Satisfied that she had everything she needed, she mounted Rosabelle and rode off to find Joe.

* * *

Joe had just finished restringing the lower line of barbed wire when he heard Firestorm whinny at an approaching rider. He looked up to see Chloe, her blond ponytail bouncing behind her as she trotted over to where he'd tied his horse.

He couldn't say that he was surprised. A natural caretaker like her was probably worried that he might overdo it.

“You come out to check on me?” he asked.

“No, I was more concerned about the time of day. It's been four hours since you had anything to eat. I figured your hunger pains would be out of control by now.”

“Well, what do you know? The woman is not only beautiful, she's smart.” He watched the blush creep up her face before she dismounted and turned to dig in the saddlebags.

Was she trying to hide her flush from him? Had she planned to bring more than lunch?

If so, that was a bad idea—although an intriguing one.

“I don't want to get in your way,” she said. “I can just leave your food here.”

“Did you already eat?” he asked, his gloved hand still gripping a strand of barbed wire.

“No, not yet.”

“Then if you'll give me a few minutes, I'll be finished here, and we can have lunch together. That is, assuming you packed enough food for two.”

“Are you kidding?” She shot him an impish grin. “I've seen you eat, so I packed enough food for six.”

He liked watching her blush, but he enjoyed her witty banter even more.

As he finished pulling the wire around the post, he asked, “You get much done this morning?”

“Actually, I did. I called Teresa's attorney and left a message with him. Then I tackled some paperwork and paid some bills. I'm trying my best to hold everything together until I know what's going to happen with the ranch.”

The stress of Dave's death and the pending what-ifs must have been bugging her. And he was glad she was finally opening up to him about it—even if he couldn't help her solve her problems. He wondered where she would go if she had to leave the Rocking C.

Before he could ask, she changed the subject. “It looks like you know what you're doing.” She nodded toward the repaired fence.

“Yeah, who would have known?” He straightened and checked over his work. Then he placed his tools in his saddlebags. “This is my third repair this morning, and each time, it was like second nature.”

She stroked Firestorm's nose. “How're you doing on this valiant steed?”

“I must be doing all right. My legs haven't begun to bow. And I'm not sore yet.”

She laughed. “That's sounds like a good sign to me.”

“So where should we eat?” he asked.

“Up by that copse of trees. There's a little pond there. I believe ranch folk would call it a swimming hole.”

Joe froze, and a vision of the pond burst forth in his mind, even though they'd yet to reach it.

As they led the horses around a big boulder, he said, “I've been here before.”

“Where?”

“
Here
. This place,” he said, unable to mask the awe in his voice.

When they reached a big tree near the water's edge and they tied the horses to one of the low branches, he was sure of it. “I've even swam in that pond.”

“When?”

“I don't know. I'm guessing a while ago. Maybe when I was a kid.” He scanned the pond that was surrounded by cottonwoods, as well as a tall eucalyptus. “Other things on this ranch have given me a slightly familiar feeling, but nothing like this. I remember this exact swimming hole.”

“What else do you remember?”

Joe paced the water's edge as if that would help him go back in time, to relive the moment.

“There used to be a rope swing over there.” He pointed at the huge eucalyptus. “It was sweltering hot that day. Dave and I were taking turns launching ourselves off the rope and into the water.”

“So you remember Dave.”

“Yes. Sort of. We'd been out riding and repairing fence lines, I think. Don't you see? I'd had this uncanny feeling that I'd done that before, too.”

“That's great. What else?”

“Dave asked if I knew how to swim. He said, ‘I've never seen your aunt or uncle take you guys to the community pool.'”

“Who were your aunt and uncle?”

“I have no idea. I can only remember him asking me that question.”

“And he said ‘you guys,' like maybe your siblings or cousins or someone else who lived with you.”

Joe wanted to recall the exact memory before he examined every detail for clues. So he didn't answer as he walked closer to the eucalyptus. He looked up at the sturdy branch overhead. The swing was gone now, but the frayed end of the rope was still there. “I remember Dave tying the rope up there.”

“How old were you?”

“High school age, I guess. Dave slipped and landed in that shallow part right there.” Joe pointed to the spot, where reeds still grew out of the water. “He busted his arm, and Mr. Cummings flipped out because we were playing around when we were supposed to be working. So he cut the rope.”

“As a punishment?”

“No, I think he cut it down because Dave got hurt on the swing. Dave yelled at his dad and accused him of being too protective.”

“Teresa used to say that Dave had a sensitive nature, and that his father used to coddle him at times.” Chloe stared off into the distance.

Joe suspected there was more to the story than that. Of course, judging by how secretive Chloe had been while digging around in the desk yesterday, he had a feeling there was a lot she hadn't shared with him about Dave, his parents and the ranch.

If she wasn't going to open up with him, then he wouldn't disclose the rest of his memory with her—including what Old Man Cummings had told Dave while scolding him. The words, the hurt they'd inflicted, rang clear in his mind now.

I knew letting that boy hang out on the ranch was a bad idea, Davey. Joey's a bad influence on you.

The father and son had argued some more, but the rest was too blurry to recall.

Yet the sharp pricks of shame cut just as deeply, the sting just as intense, as if the conversation had unfolded only seconds ago.

And that was the real reason Joe hadn't wanted to enlighten Chloe about that part of the memory. He didn't want her to think Mr. Cummings had been right.

As Chloe unbuckled a rolled up quilt from the back of Rosabelle's saddle and spread it out on the grass, Joe again looked up at the discarded remnant of rope still hanging in the tree and replayed the scene over again in his mind.

He'd been right. He knew Dave before the guy had ever enlisted, which meant they'd gone to high school together. Could Joe actually be from Brighton Valley? Was this small town his home?

No, it couldn't be. Not any longer. He had no dependents, no family. And his driver's license as well as his discharge papers said his home was in California.

He also had a friend in El Paso. Of course, a lot of good that contact information had been. Joe had called him yesterday after dinner. But the man hadn't answered his phone, and he'd let his messages pile up until there was no room left for another one.

Chloe must've been thinking along the same line because she said, “I wonder if we should call Sheriff Hollister and let him know about this breakthrough. Since you can't go into town yourself, maybe he can ask around and see if anyone remembers you.”

“I would think that he already asked all the locals that question and came up blank.” Joe helped her unpack the bags that held their lunch and carry them to the blanket.

She set out four sandwiches, some leftover scones, a thermos of lemonade and two apples. Then her motions stalled. “You know, if you went to high school with Dave, Sheriff Hollister might be able to talk to some of the other kids who were in your class.”

“Sure, but Hollister seems like a smart guy. I'll bet he's already asked every person my age if they remember me. And he didn't have anything to report.”

“You have a point. But he did say that he was still investigating.”

Joe reached for a sandwich, removed it from the plastic baggie and took a bite, which would help to quench his hunger for lunch. But it wouldn't do much when he was starving for more details on his background.

The small flashback triggered a desperate need to find out more about who he'd been, where he'd been. Even though Chloe was keeping mum about her own business, Joe couldn't keep his memories locked up tight. He needed someone with whom he could bounce off his ideas and theories, and he suspected that the pretty blonde lounging next to him was eager to speculate with him.

“Maybe I was just hired help,” Joe said, “like Tomas. That day that we went swimming was hot. And I was here working. So it's possible that the Cummings gave me a summer job, and that I'm not from around here.”

“But Dave mentioned your aunt and uncle, so maybe he knew them. You might have only lived with them during summers.”

“Then why didn't I list them as my next of kin on my enlistment paperwork?”

They went around and around, speculating and eating and speculating some more. But none of the scenarios they came up with felt right.

Joe was just about to reach for a scone when he decided not to ruin a nice day spent with Chloe by bringing up all the what-ifs. So he lay back on the quilt instead, letting his hat fall off and stacking his hands under his head.

“You know what?” he asked. “As much as I want all the answers right this second, they're not going to magically appear just because we've talked the possibilities to death. I'm just going to have to be patient and hope that something else comes along and jogs my memory.”

“Dr. Nielson suggested you give your brain time to heal and let nature take its course. You might only get snippets of memory here and there, but with time, it should all come back to you.”

“I hope so.”

“It's amazing how you took one look at this pond and
poof
.” She snapped her fingers. “A boyhood recollection reappeared. I wonder what else you can remember by experiencing something similar.”

“I wouldn't mind remembering how it felt to lie down under the blue sky and kiss a beautiful woman.”

She caught his gaze, and her smile faded. “Is that something you've experienced before?”

“I don't know. Come a little closer and help me find out.”

He'd just been testing her, teasing her. But when she smiled, he turned to his side, reached for her and...just let nature take its course.

Chapter Nine

C
hloe had no business kissing Joe again, but as those amazing blue eyes reached deep inside of her, as his arms slipped around her and he drew her close, she couldn't help leaning toward him and just...letting go.

She expected the kiss to start slowly—much like the first one had. But the moment their lips met, hers parted, and the kiss exploded with passion.

As their tongues touched, twisting and mating, their hands stroked, explored, caressed.

She knew she should pull back and stop things before they got out of hand, but it had been so long since she'd lost herself in a man's arms, in his kiss.

Then again, her only experience had never been like this. Before she was blinded by a haze of lust and found herself making love outdoors, she drew her mouth from his. She meant to explain her reason for stopping, but she didn't dare say a word until her breathing slowed to a normal rate and her heart stopped pounding.

“That was some kiss,” he said.

It certainly was.

“I don't mean to be a tease,” she finally said, “but I don't think we should jump into anything.”

He ran his knuckles along her cheek. “Because of my amnesia?”

That was one reason to be cautious. She hardly knew the man as it was. And while her heart—not to mention, her body—seemed to insist it didn't matter, that she could easily fall for him anyway, she had to be reasonable.

“Don't you think we should take things slow until your memory returns?” she said.

“Probably.”

She bit down on her bottom lip, pondering how much to share with him about the mistake she'd made, but there was a part of her that didn't want him to think she was flighty or that she didn't have any morals.

“I made a bad choice once, and I told myself I'd be more careful next time.”

“What happened?”

She really hadn't told anyone before, other than Teresa, but it seemed as though Joe deserved an explanation. “I was lonely and got caught up in a relationship that wasn't right for me.”

She'd met Mark Foster her first semester at the junior college in Wexler. She hadn't had a chance to make any friends in town yet, and he'd been funny and charming. She'd been flattered by his interest in her, thinking that he actually cared for her.

He'd pursued her, coming on pretty strong, and she hadn't been experienced in the ways of the world. She should have taken the time to think things through, to get to know his true character, but she hadn't. He'd taken advantage of her naivety by taking her out to an expensive dinner in Wexler, pulling out all the romantic stops and plying her with enough champagne to make her head spin.

She'd never in a million years thought that she'd have sex in the back of a car—especially her first time. She'd cried afterward. And then she'd gotten sick. The whole thing was a disappointing and embarrassing experience she'd like to forget.

Apparently, Mark had more luck at forgetting than she had. He never called her again, while she couldn't get that awful night out of her mind.

“So what did he do to you?” Joe asked. “Did he break your heart?”

No, it was her self-respect that had suffered the most, which was why Chloe had never shared the embarrassing details with anyone.

“My heart was a little bruised,” she said, “but not broken. Let's just say that things didn't work out the way I'd hoped.”

She'd learned a hard lesson that night, one that didn't need repeating. From then on, she'd resolved not to drink on a date and not to have sex with someone she didn't love—or barely knew.

And even though she felt as though she could fall for Joe, he had amnesia, and she didn't know any more about him than he knew about himself.

* * *

After that heated kiss by the pond earlier that afternoon, Joe had been careful to respect Chloe's wishes, even though it had taken every ounce of his resolve to put some distance between them once he'd come in for dinner.

He was bone tired after a hard day's work, and the hot shower he'd taken upon entering the house had refreshed him only enough to eat the chicken and roasted potatoes Chloe had made for dinner. When his eyes began drifting closed at the table, his little Florence Nightingale returned and ordered him to bed.

Within minutes of his head hitting the pillow, he'd fallen into a deep sleep, and his dreams took him far away from horses and watering holes, from two laughing boys and an irate rancher.

As Dave's father's words grew dim, the vision's backdrop shifted from a green and fertile Texas ranch to a dry and dusty urban war zone in Afghanistan, where bullets flew and mortar boomed...

Three or four Taliban insurgents carrying assault rifles and strategically hiding in an abandoned apartment building fired on Joe and his men. And they took cover behind an overturned minibus.

“Hold your positions,” Joe commanded.

His communications specialist had radioed for backup. He just needed to keep his troops in cover position a few more seconds until reinforcement arrived.

The metal tracks of the cavalry tank sounded, just a short distance away, providing a sense of relief. But the corporal beside him fidgeted with his rifle, clearly on edge from more than just the gunshots around them.

“I can't take this no more,” the corporal said, tears streaming down his face. “If she doesn't want me, then what do I have left?”

“Hold tight, buddy. The armored tanks are almost—”

Before Joe could finish his order, the young marine was up and running, revealing their hiding position and exposing the other members of their patrol squad.

“Fall back, Dave. Fall back!” Joe screamed. But the hotheaded corporal didn't listen. Instead, he charged toward the snipers, spraying bullets at no target in particular.

Dave only had so many rounds, and when he emptied his rifle, he'd be a sitting duck. As the squad commander, Joe was responsible for all of his men, even those who were hell-bent on disobeying direct orders and compromising the safety of fellow marines.

“I'm going after Corporal Cummings,” Joe told the man beside him. “Cover me, but don't move until the armored vehicles set up a blockade. On three...”

Joe ran out to Dave, grabbed the crazed man by his pack and pulled his body back toward the safety of the minibus. But his friend swung his rifle around, clocking Joe in the face, allowing the snipers above them to get a free shot.

Dave, weighted down by his full gear and a rage of helplessness, fell onto Joe just as the first lumbering Humvee pulled in front of them. But not before Joe's knee exploded.

“Dammit,” Joe yelled. “I told you to fall back, Dave.”

A tap on his shoulder, followed by a gentle hand tugging at him, drew him out of the gunfire, the dust and the heat.

“Joe, wake up. You're having another nightmare.”

At the sound of Chloe's voice, he almost lurched out of bed, determined to dive over her body and protect her from enemy fire. But her calming strokes along his biceps told him that she was real, not just a figment of his nocturnal imagination.

“Here,” she said, “have some water.”

He sat up, letting the sheet drop to his waist, and took a deep drink from the glass she offered him.

“Sorry for being such a...” What? A head case? A nut job? He shook his head and sighed. “I'm sorry for waking you up.
Again
.”

“Don't worry about it,” she said, her words coming out softly, soothing him.

Just having Chloe near helped. His racing pulse slowed, but his pounding heart wasn't so quick to respond.

“You went through a traumatic ordeal,” she said, “and it's only natural that you'd dream about it.”

Was she talking about the accident that had robbed him of his memory? Or the battle he'd just relived in his sleep?

He let out a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair before taking another gulp of water.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” she asked as her fingers continued their soothing caress along his upper arm.

She was wearing a thin cotton nightgown, the hem barely reaching her thighs when she sat beside him on the bed. She meant to comfort him, no doubt, but his decelerating heartbeat leaped back into action, quickening its tempo.

He'd tried so hard to be a gentleman earlier tonight. To keep his distance so he wouldn't be tempted to pull her into his arms for another heated kiss like the one they'd shared on that picnic blanket.

In the dim light filtering in from the hallway, he could see her expression and realized it was one of concern, not lust. So he didn't dare meet her eyes. Not when his thoughts had shifted from the war zone to the bedroom.

He lowered his gaze to her chest, where the clinging cotton gown she wore couldn't hide her rounded breasts. She wasn't wearing a bra, and as her arm moved up and down so she could rub his biceps, he could see the outline of her dusky nipples with each movement.

“Another dream?” she asked.

“It was the same as before, only more detailed. I think it was a memory of the battle I read about in Danielson's report.”

Her hand shifted from his side to his back, and with each stroke of her fingers along his spine, his arousal grew. If he couldn't get his hormones under control, he'd have to get her off his bed and out the door before he did something they'd both regret later.

Amnesia or not, he was still a man. And if she kept touching his bare skin like that...

“I'm okay now,” he said. “Go on back to bed. You need your rest, too.”

“You're still shivering. I'm not going to leave until your body settles down.”

Oh, yeah? If she kept stroking him like that, taunting him, his body would never calm down. He wasn't shivering because of his nightmare. Just looking at her tousled hair and sleepy eyes had riled him up.

Unable to take it anymore, he grabbed her hand, his fingers circling her wrist.

Her mouth opened slightly in surprise, but she didn't try to pull away.

“Listen, Chloe. If you don't get back to your room right this second, I'm going to do a lot more than kiss you.”

The pulse in her wrist quickened, and her eyes dropped to the sheet barely covering his lap. His arousal had to be obvious.

She raised her gaze to his, but she didn't make a move to leave.

He continued to hold her wrist, his thumb tracing slow circles on her skin. Their gazes met and locked. He lifted his free hand and cupped her jaw. Yet she didn't seem to be the least bit worried about what might happen if she continued to stay with him.

He leaned forward and brushed his lips across hers—gently, just in case she came to her senses and decided to pull away.

Instead, she opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to explore her warm depths. She pressed in, her own tongue matching his with equal fervor. He pulled her closer, her breasts splayed against his bare torso.

He was tempted to tear the thin fabric so he could feel all of her warm fragrant skin against his. He needed the intimacy, the closeness of another person.

No, not just any person. He needed
Chloe
.

He drew back slightly, trying to read her expression, to gauge her thoughts.

Her eyes, glazed with passion, searched his face, too, as if trying to assess what he might be thinking, feeling.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, loud enough to appease his conscience, yet soft enough for her to realize she had the power to slow things down or bring them to a complete halt.

She reached for the back of his neck, drew his mouth to hers and whispered against his lips, “I'm sure.”

They kissed again, long and deep. As his hands slid along the bare curve of her back and down the slope of her hips, a surge of desire shot clean through him. He lifted the hem of her nightgown and removed the barrier before laying her down beside him.

He paused a moment to drink in the angelic sight of pretty Chloe, lying on his bed. Her throat flushed, her lips plump from their kisses.

“You're beautiful,” he said.

A slow smile stretched across her lips. “So are you.”

He didn't know about that. He was beat up from a hard day's work and scarred from battle—and who knew what else. But her words pleased him.

Her nails skimmed across his chest, sending a shimmy of heat through his blood, and he kissed her again until they were both drowning in need.

She pulled her lips from his, yet she continued to hold him. “I want to feel you inside me, Joe.”

Words he'd been hoping—maybe longing—to hear.

As she opened for him, he entered her. She raised her hips to meet him, and their bodies became one, taking and giving.

As they both reached a peak, he released with her, and their climax set off a sexual explosion that left him seeing stars.

The night stood still, and nothing mattered but the two of them and what they'd just experienced in each other's arms. That is, until reality settled over him.

He had nothing to offer her. At least, not until his memory returned. So he hoped she wouldn't consider this another mistake she'd made, or him to be another bad choice.

While he was tempted to tell her that she was safe with him, another more pressing, more daunting reality slammed into him.

He'd been so caught up in desire that he'd neglected to even consider using any means of protection.

Did he dare mention that to her? Had the thought even crossed her mind?

He stroked the length of her arm, then took her hand in his. “As nice as that was, as much as I enjoyed it, we got a little carried away. We didn't use any protection.”

“I know,” she said a bit breathlessly. “I just realized that.”

He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “I'm not an irresponsible lover. It's just that...”