Teresa Carpenter - His Unforgettable Fiancée

It baffled her why the town council even asked her to finish out her father’s term if they didn’t want her to carry on the regimen he’d put in place. He’d trained her, after all. Probably thought she’d have a softer touch, being a woman. But she couldn’t be less than she was.

Disappointing, though. She’d thought she’d found the place she wanted to put down roots. Everyone had been so friendly, welcoming her into town when she came to help Dad. She’d mistakenly felt accepted when they asked her to finish his term. The experience made her wonder if she even wanted to continue in active law enforcement.

Finding nothing left behind, she locked up and skipped down the stairs one last time before sliding behind the wheel of her SUV. JD slept in the passenger seat. He’d dozed off on the way to her place and she hadn’t bothered to wake him for this stop. He would have insisted on helping but was in no shape for it. Why put them both through that argument?

She believed rules were there for a reason and exceptions created chaos. In the case of the law, it also put people at risk. And if you gave one person an exception, everyone expected to get the same special treatment. Then why have laws?

Her father had been a stickler for discipline and order when she was growing up. Especially after her mother died when Grace was eight. Tightening the reins had been his way of coping. She understood that now. But to a grieving little girl, all the fun in life seemed to have died with her mother.

And that didn’t change for a very long time. Still hadn’t, if you talked to the townspeople. Grace Delaney didn’t know how to have fun.

They were wrong. She liked to have fun as much as the next person. She just chose to do so in less gregarious ways. Hey, when you came off extended hours patrolling shore leave, a little peace and quiet was all the fun you could handle. And a good book or a fast video game was all the company you craved.

The activity of carrying her things down to the car served to revitalize her for the coming drive. Still, in order to help keep her alert, she pulled into the all-night diner and purchased a coffee to go. Though truthfully, JD’s presence kept her on a low-level buzz.

He made her usually roomy SUV seem small. His broad shoulders and long limbs took up more than their share of space. The smell of man and antiseptic filled the air. And his heat warmed the car better than her heater.

Thinking of JD, she added a second cup to her order in case he woke up.

Grace carried the coffees to the SUV and headed the vehicle toward Santa Rosa. The clear night and full moon made the drive go fast.

JD stirred every once in a while but didn’t wake up. She couldn’t imagine what he must be going through. Bad enough to be robbed and left injured and abandoned on the outskirts of a strange town. How much more unnerving it must be to lose his memories, to lose all sense of self.

Except for that one moment of vulnerability before going in for the MRI, he took it in stride. She supposed it was all he could do to handle the pain of his physical ailments.

Not least of which was a stab wound. The doctor concurred with her time frame for the stabbing at less than a month. JD stated he had no memory of the incident. He’d sounded frustrated, an emotion she shared.

He had to be wondering about his life—the circumstances of the stabbing for one, the accident for another. He’d been alone when he met up with Porter, but he could well have a family out there wondering about him. A wife praying for his safe return.

A wife. Her shoulders twitched at the notion. Something deep inside rebelled at the thought of him with another woman. Which was totally insane. There was nothing between the two of them.

For sugar’s sake, they’d spent half their time together on separate sides of the law.

Not that it was an issue. He had no wife. Or so he said in that way of his that was so definite. How could he be so sure of some things, yet have no memory to support his conclusion?

Perhaps the amnesia was a hoax. One big fib to cover a crime.

So his prints didn’t hit. There were plenty of criminals that never got caught.

He could have had a falling-out with his cohorts who ditched him and took his ride. Then he could have stumbled into town and unfortunately drawn the attention of a sheriff’s deputy. Who would believe a motorcycle thug with a stab wound owned a seventy-thousand-dollar Cartier watch? No one. So he ditched his wallet and claimed to have lost his memory. All he had to do was sweat it out in the drunk tank for a few hours and he was home free.

Except for the do-good ex-sheriff who insisted on taking him to the hospital.

That version made more sense than the motorcycle-riding geek with an expensive taste in watches and a penchant for knowing things he couldn’t back up with facts.

And yet she believed him.

The concussion was real. The pain was real. The frustration was real. The occasional flash of fear he tried to hide was very real. She’d been in law enforcement too long not to recognize those elements when she saw them. And there were medical tests to back it all up.

Not to mention the fact if he was a thug, she’d probably be lying on the side of the road back near Woodpark.

Well, he would have tried, anyway. She didn’t go down so easy.

The lights of Santa Rosa came into view. She stole a sip of JD’s coffee, wrinkling her nose at the lack of sugar. Surprisingly it still held a good heat. And the punch of caffeine she longed for.

No question about it, he was a puzzle, but a legit one.

Still, she’d be smart to take the things he was so sure of with a grain of salt. There was no sense, none at all, in fostering an attraction when neither of them was sure of their future. When neither of them was sure of themselves.

Because, yeah, losing the campaign had really shaken her. Not that she’d ever admit it out loud. She thought she’d been doing a good job, that the community liked her. But the votes hadn’t been there. It had left her reeling. And feeling a little lost. She put her heart and soul into protecting and serving the citizens of Woodpark, and they chose a stuffed shirt who was more hot air than action.

Their loss, right? Except the experience threw her off stride, made her question her decisions and her vocation. Which was so not her. She always knew exactly what she wanted, and she went after it with a zealousness that earned her what she sought.

Not this time.

So, yeah, she had more empathy for JD than she might have had otherwise.

In a moment of connection and sympathy, she reached across the middle console and gripped his hand where it lay on his muscular thigh. His fingers immediately wrapped around hers, and her gaze shot to his face.

There was no change in his expression or posture, leaving her to wonder how long he’d been awake.

She pulled her hand free.

“We’re about twenty minutes from Santa Rosa,” she told him. “I bought you a coffee. It has a little heat left if you want it. There is cream and sweeteners.”

He straightened in his seat and scrubbed his hands over his face.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I was in a cage fight with a motorcycle and lost.”

“You need to choose your sparring partners more carefully.”

He barked a laugh. “Yes, I do.” He picked up the to-go cup and took a sip. “Black is fine.” He stared over at her. “How are you doing?”

Wow. Tears burned at the back of her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time someone asked how she was doing. She blinked, clearing her vision, shoving aside the maudlin reaction to a simple question.

“Fine. The coffee has kept my body alert.”

“Ah. And what’s your mind been busy with?”