Shirley Jump - Escape for New Year - Amnesiac Ex, Unforgettable Vows / One Night with Prince Charming / Midnight Kiss, New Year Wish

He was about to call out don’t bother, but he liked her looking after him. The meals, the smiles. The love.

His attention on the sexy bounce of her step, Bishop put the phone to his ear. On the other end of the line, Willis didn’t beat around the bush.

“I don’t know how much longer I can put them off,” Willis said, referring to the potential buyers of Bishop Scaffolds. “They want to speak with you, Sam.”

Having set the axe down, Bishop wiped sweat from his brow with his forearm. Laura was right. He should wear a hat.

He moved into the shade. “Not this week, Willis.”

“Early next week then.”

“I’ll let you know.” He tipped his nose in the direction of the kitchen and inhaled. “Laura’s doing beef Stroganoff. You should smell it.”

Willis stayed on track. “I’ve given them as much as I can with regard to figures and projections. But the guy keeps calling. You should at least give him ten minutes on the phone. It’s only good business.”

Bishop understood Willis’s point. He should phone, but he wasn’t in the right frame of mind. He was anxious about when, or if, Laura’s memory would return, but on another level he was feeling, in a strange sense, settled; he worried he’d tell the buyers he was no longer interested and later regret that he hadn’t moved on the opportunity. So it was better, for now, to wait and see what transpired.

Bishop swapped the phone to the other ear. “I’ll call him next week.”

A long silence echoed down the line. Bishop dug a booted toe in the black soil while he waited for Willis to spit out whatever else was bothering him.

“You want me to be frank, Sam?”

“That’s what I pay you for.”

“Laura still hasn’t got her memory back?”

“Correct.”

“I know you want to help, but there’s a good chance the past will all come back and you’ll be in the doghouse again. Even if those memories don’t return, you’re still going to have to tell her the truth.” When Bishop only stared into the sun, scrubbing his jaw, Willis prodded. “You know that, right?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“I don’t imagine it is. That’s why you need to be doubly cautious.”

Hell, cautious was his middle name.

But Willis was right. He was getting carried away. Getting tangled up between past, present and possible future. One of them needed to keep their feet firmly planted on the ground.

Willis changed the subject. “Are you coming tomorrow night?”

To his birthday bash? Bishop moved back to the axe he’d left leaning beside the block. There’d be people there from work. People who knew about his divorce. He doubted anyone would have the guts to ask either him or Laura directly about that, or the fact that they looked to be together again. If anyone did …

With his free hand, he swung up the axe and inspected the blade. The sharp edge gleamed in the sunlight.

Bottom line, he wanted to help her remember, right? If things got interesting tomorrow evening and she started to come around too quickly, he’d whisk her away and begin explaining. Not a moment he looked forward to.

But Willis had hit the proverbial nail. He and Laura couldn’t live in the past. Not indefinitely, anyway.

“We’ll be there,” Bishop said. “Laura’s excited about it.”

“Great. We’ll find a few minutes to talk then.”

Bishop was signing off when Laura strolled out again, Akubra in hand. She stuck it on his head and told him to leave it there.

Grinning, he tipped the rim. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Is everything okay at the office?”

“Everything’s good.”

“It’s been wonderful having you home this week, but if you need to go in, don’t stay because you’re worried about me.” When he only looked at her, she set her hands on her hips. “I feel great, Bishop.” Then, shading her eyes from the sun, she asked, “What will we give Willis for his birthday? Is he interested in chess?”

“Not that I know of.”

“You’ve never asked?”

“It’s never come up.”

“But you have a chessboard in your office. The one I gave you as a wedding gift.”

Twenty-four karat gold and pewter pieces. It was the most exquisite set he’d ever seen. But something in her tone set his antenna quivering. These past days they’d spent so much time together, taking walks, enjoying picnics, at other times staying indoors to ponder over the chessboard. Laura had been testy when they’d left Dr. Chatwin’s office on Tuesday; she didn’t want to see a specialist. And she’d seemed so off balance that evening on the porch—Monday. But since that time she hadn’t shown any obvious signs of feeling foggy, as she called it, or agitated. Quite the opposite. She’d seemed particularly breezy.

And yet subtle things she’d say or do let him know that some connections, or at least curiosities, were still clicking. The thing that struck him most was that, despite whatever connections she might secretly be making, Laura didn’t seem any the less in love with him. In fact, her love seemed to grow every day.

As for him …

Laura’s next question took him by surprise.

“Have you heard from your parents lately?”

He gave the obvious reply. “They live in Perth.”

“I know that, silly. But there is such a thing as a phone.”

Some years ago, his parents had moved to Western Australia, a six-hour flight from Sydney. They’d flown back for his wedding and had approved of Laura in every way. He only wished his mother hadn’t cried so much during the ceremony. Without asking he knew she was wishing that his brother had been there; she’d made sure to tell him later. Bishop understood the emotion—he felt it, too. But on that one day, Lord knows he hadn’t needed it.

He’d vowed if anything so tragic ever happened to him—if, God forbid, he lost a child—he’d keep the memories, the pain and regrets—to himself. But in hindsight, he should have been more open about his feelings after Laura’s miscarriage rather than building that wall … pretending it hadn’t hurt as much as it had. As Laura stood here now, the mountains a dramatic backdrop and the sun lighting her hair, he knew he ought to have shared more of himself, particularly when she’d stayed shut down.

She’d needed comfort then, not steel.

“Maybe we should invite them out for a couple of weeks,”

Laura went on. “Your mother seems so sweet. It’d be nice to get to know her more.”

“I’m sure she’d like that, too.”

“You could call your folks tonight after dinner.”

“I could do that.” But he wouldn’t.

“I should probably start getting the guest wing ready.”

“Laura, my parents travel a lot. They might not even be home.”

And as they walked arm in arm back to the house, she leaning her head against his shoulder and a palm folded over the hand he had resting on her waist, Bishop decided that was the excuse he’d give after pretending to call.

The following evening, he and Laura arrived in Sydney for Willis’s birthday bash forty minutes late. For a present, they decided on a dinner voucher at one of Sydney’s most exclusive restaurants. As Bishop slid out from the car now, the lights and sound coming from the party venue descended upon him. He’d tried to stay optimistic, but he couldn’t see tonight working out well. Someone was bound to say something that would trip a switch and Laura would naturally want to know more. Most likely she’d grow suspicious. Agitated. There could be a highly embarrassing scene.

It wasn’t too late to back out.

Instead, Bishop sucked it up, swung around the back of the car and opened Laura’s door.

“Willis knows a lot of people,” Laura said, surveying the elite restaurant as she slid out. Through the generous bank of streetfront windows, a throng of people could be seen milling, talking and generally having a good time. Wringing her pocketbook under her chin, Laura hesitated.