Metsy Hingle - Secret Agent Dad

He pinned her with eyes that had gone flat and hard. “I don’t remember a damn thing—except for you.”

“Me?” The word came out as little more than a squeak. She swallowed, tried again. “But that doesn’t make any sense. Why would you remember me? We don’t even know each other.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. And it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t remember my name. I certainly don’t remember any accident or hitting my head.” He rubbed at his temple as though in pain, but when he lifted those chocolate eyes to hers, they were filled with irritation...and with need.

Josie’s stomach tightened like a fist.

“The only thing that I do remember is you. Your face. The sound of your voice. Even the way you smell. When you came walking through that door a few minutes ago, I could have sworn that you and I were—”

“Um, yes. I, um, get the picture,” Josie told him. And she did. She knew exactly what he’d thought, given the way he’d tumbled her to the bed and kissed her. Even now just thinking about that kiss made her knees sag. And considering the way she’d responded, was it any wonder the man had thought they were lovers?

How could she have behaved that way? Allowed him such liberties? Taken such liberties herself? Her behavior had been outrageous. She’d obviously taken temporary leave of her senses. What else could account for that heady sensation she’d experienced? Or the fact that she’d actually enjoyed being wrapped in his arms, of feeling his hard body pressed against hers, of discovering the taste and texture of his mouth? And that mouth! She hadn’t known a mouth could be so skilled, so hungry, so eager. Not for her.

Her lips tingled at the memory, and she pressed her fingertips against them. No one had ever kissed her that way before. Not even in the early days of her marriage had she experienced that kind of passion—so powerful, so huge, so consuming. During those few moments desire had exploded inside her, obliterating her ability to think. Even now, just remembering sent shivers of longing curling through her—confusing her, shaming her and exciting her all at the same time. For a woman who had always considered herself less than hot natured when it came to sex, and had even accepted that she was at least partly responsible for Ben’s straying, her response to this stranger’s kiss made absolutely no sense. Yet there was no denying that she’d wanted more. What did that say about her character? Not much, she decided. Squeezing her eyes shut, she could only be grateful that he hadn’t realized just how close to the edge she had been. That one kiss from him had had her swimming in those fairy-tale dreams again.

“Damn it! Why can’t I remember anything?”

Josie’s eyes snapped open at the sharpness in his tone, saw him wince and grab his head. “You’ve got to calm down,” she told him. “Getting upset isn’t going to help matters. That blow to your head must have caused some sort of temporary amnesia.”

He fingered the bandage on his forehead, traced the square of white gauze and tape. “Amnesia,” he repeated with a frown, then lifted his eyes to hers. “How long does that usually last?”

“I...um...I’m not sure,” Josie admitted.

“Well, how long do you think? A day? Two days? A week?”

“It isn’t the flu,” she informed him, irritated by his impatience. “From the few things I remember reading about amnesia, each case varies. Some people get their memory back in a few days. Some take weeks or months, even years. And others, well, others take...longer.”

Something in her tone must have alarmed him because he narrowed his eyes. “How much longer?”

“Some people never get their memory back.”

“I’ll get mine back,” he assured her with a steel in his voice that matched the determination in his eyes.

“I’m sure you will.” At least she hoped he would. “But in the meantime, you need to rest.”

“I don’t want to rest. I want to find out who I am,” he said, frustration emanating from him in waves. The fingers rubbing at his temples stopped abruptly, and he whipped his attention to her. “What about ID? I must have had some sort of identification on me. A driver’s license? Credit cards?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. All I found was a money clip with the initial B and a wad of bills. If you had a wallet, I guess it’s possible it’s still in the car. I didn’t take the time to look too closely. Or it could have fallen on the road when you got out of your car.” And if that were the case, they would never find it, thanks to the rising water and wind, she added silently. “When the storm lets up, I’ll drive out to where you had the wreck and see what I can find.”

“No. I’ll go. It’s my problem, and I’ve already put you to enough trouble.”

She shrugged, seeing no point in arguing that he really wasn’t well and shouldn’t be behind the wheel of any vehicle. “Well, neither one of us will be going anywhere until this storm lets up.” She paused, wondering whether she should tell him what else she had found.

He turned laser-sharp eyes on her. “What is it? What aren’t you telling me?”

It unnerved her that he could read her so clearly, and made her pray he hadn’t been able to read how attracted she was to him. “Besides the money clip and cash, you had a gun. It was hidden in one of your boots.”

The frown creasing his brow deepened, but he said nothing, simply continued to watch her.

“I put it over there, in the top drawer.” She pointed to the armoire in the corner. “The money clip and cash are with it.”

Still silent, he pushed to his feet. And when he swayed, she reached out instinctively to steady him, and another sizzle of heat rippled through her. Awareness, lightning quick, flashed into his eyes. He sank back down to the bed, and Josie snatched her hand away. “Guess my head’s not as hard as I thought The damned. .darned thing feels like somebody took a hammer to it,” he muttered.

“I’ll go, and let you get some rest.”

“No,” he responded quickly. “I’ve had enough rest. I’d like to get dressed and then take a look at that money clip and gun. Maybe seeing them will trigger my memory.” He stood again, this time steady.

Unable to stop herself, Josie stared at him. He had a magnificent body. Tall, strong, solid. He reminded her of a mythical god, a warrior prince cast in bronze and gold, she thought. She ran her gaze over him and paused at a jagged scar on one shoulder, wondering how he’d gotten it. She skimmed past the flat stomach, and shifted lower to where his sex strained against the black briefs. Liquid heat spilled through her as she recalled the feel of him pressed hot and heavy against her thighs. Recognizing the dangerous direction of her thoughts, Josie forced her gaze up to his face. But looking into his eyes proved no safer. They were dark, mysterious and burned with a sensual fire that had the air backing up in her lungs.

“Angel, unless you’ve changed your mind about joining me in this bed, I think you’d better stop looking at me like that and let me get dressed.”

Mortified to have been caught gawking at him like a lovestruck schoolgirl, she took a step back to allow him to pass.

But he made no attempt to leave. Instead he stood there looking impossibly sexy and tempting. The bandage on his forehead added an edge of danger to his appeal, but was at odds with the hint of a smile on his lips.

“Is there a problem?” she asked, irritated and hurt that he found the mousy little widow’s fascination with him funny.

“No. I just realized that you must have been the one to undress me last night.”

Her pride pricked that she’d made herself such a vulnerable target by gaping at him. She hiked up her chin. “It was either that or let you catch pneumonia. You were soaked to the skin.”