Chapter One
Catherine French opened her eyes and stared at the smooth, white ceiling above her. At first, she thought she was lying in bed at home, but then where did the cold metal bedrails and stiff white sheet come from? My God, I'm at the hospital, but why? She heard a machine beeping steadily. Beside her, a green line on a computer screen pitched and dropped.
Well, at least I haven't flatlined....
The small room was no larger than a prison cell--ten feet by fourteen feet and no more. The air was frigid, no doubt to keep the germs from proliferating, and the room was empty except for a vinyl chair with wooden armrests and a jar of cotton balls beside the sink. The sliding door was open, and Catherine could see two, middle-aged men wearing wire-framed glasses and typing on computers at the registration desk. No one seemed to be watching her, no one seemed to care that she had no idea who or where she was.
The light in the room was generally dim, but a large, floor-to-ceiling chunk was pouring in from the corridor. She saw a nurse in pink scrubs go ambling by. She didn't even bother to look into the exam room. What made her think that Catherine was doing fine?
Feeling abandoned, Catherine threw back the covers and tried to get up. Her head swam in a swamp of muck and then reeled. She fell back onto the pillow and waited for the moment to pass with her dark eyes closed. Her head was suddenly an iron ball at the end of a very long chain. She cried out but no one rushed to her aid. Burying her face in her long, delicate hands, she stifled a scream. Massive tears fell from her eyes and she gulped. Her mind went blank, as if a plug had been pulled. Who was she and where did she come from?
A dark figure appeared in the doorway. It lingered and then reached over to flip on the light. A handsome young man stared at her, his plump, inviting lips slightly parted and his Nordic blue eyes wide open. She fixated on the bright, faceted irises, the hue of Artic ice. She couldn't tear her own eyes away despite her misery. He was simply riveting.
:Are you all right?" the young man asked. His black scrubs fit snugly, accenting his sculpted body and bulging biceps. He moved toward the bed and picked up the earplugs of the stethoscope dangling from his neck. Her heart pounded as he placed the cold, circular piece on her chest and listened. She doubted that any man so good looking had ever been that close to her before and she was determined to enjoyed ever second of it, despite her memory loss.
And yet, as handsome as he was, tenderness and not arrogance glowed in his breathtaking eyes, a tenderness that made her feel warm all over. His face was perfectly symmetrical with a square jaw, high cheekbones and an easy smile. That smile, along with his short, rumpled brown hair, gave him a boyish charm, one that raised goose bumps on Catherine's pale arms.
Well, at least I have a hot doctor...
Soon he stood up and unplugged his ears. "Everything seems to be normal, Catherine. You can probably go home tomorrow."
"Catherine? Who is Catherine?"
"What year is it?" he asked.
She searched her mind for an answer but came up with nothing.
"Who is the president?"
"George Washington. George Washington Carver..."
"Barack Obama," he said. "He's our first African American president."
She had never heard of him.
The doctor gently pulled down one lower eyelid and then the other to determine if the irises were equal. They were not. He touched her shoulder with a large, well-manicured hand. A thousand volts of electricity buzzed through her veins and she relaxed against the bed. The effect this doctor had on her was magical, impossible to resist. And the fact that he was easy on the eyes as well didn't hurt a bit.
His broad shoulders accented the muscled arms straining against his shirt sleeves. His thighs were as taut as melons. And when he smiled at her, her heart flipped in her chest. She may not have known who she was, but she still knew a good man when she saw one.
His heavy sigh warmed her face. "You have some memory loss due to a concussion. It's no big deal, but once we suture that gash in your forehead, you'll have to find some place to go. The hospital can keep you overnight, but then you're on your own. Have any friends or relatives that can help you?"
Her jaw dropped as she grabbed the drip pole beside the bed. "No, I don't remember anybody. What is going to happen to me?"
"Stay calm. I'll have the nurse bring you something to help you sleep. Don't worry. We'll figure something out tomorrow."
She fisted the stiff white sheet. He had to help her, had to. If he didn't, who would?
***
Adonis Bell slumped against the stainless steel sink in the exam room next to Catherine's. He blew out a deep breath, gathering himself before leaving for home. If he didn't get it together, he'd no doubt have a heart attack. Catherine French was at the hospital and she was the only woman who'd ever meant anything to him. Five years ago, he'd thought he'd seen the last of her, but now she was there, looking as beautiful as ever, except for that nasty gash and a couple of scrapes and burns...
He scolded himself and lifted his chest. He was a respected doctor and a veteran, for God's sake. If he could survive Operation Iraqi Freedom, he could survive anything. But oh, how she had hurt him! They'd had one glorious night together and then she'd disappeared in the morning without even saying good-bye. And she'd refused to respond to any of his phone calls. Yes, they had both signed an electronic contract agreeing not to see each other again, but the explosive chemistry between them made him crave more.
So what if he'd broken the rules? He'd only done it because he'd felt something for her and thought she must have felt it too. Almost every single woman in town was clamoring to become "Mrs. Doctor" except for, as it turned out, the one he really and truly wanted.
If only he hadn't logged onto that damn website, onenightonly.com. After one night with a stranger, you were not supposed to see each other again. He had gleefully signed the contract, too busy with his medical residency at the university to make a commitment. He'd been young and selfish, out for his own gratification, and too naïve to realize that the plan might eventually backfire on him.
He had grieved when she didn't respond. Had wrestled with his conscience and had even doubted his prowess in bed. It had taken a long time to get over her and he'd done it mostly by burying himself in his work and meaningless friends-with-benefits. And now Catherine had come back to haunt him, to ignite the fire in his belly that had long ago kept him up night after night.
He sighed and shifted from one new sneaker to the other as his mind drifted back to the night when, tall and slender, she had arrived at his front door. She wore a red pencil skirt and matching jacket, and along with her sexy smile, he couldn't help but gape at her. He'd temporarily forgotten his manners as hot flames licked his insides. In a few short seconds, he'd been reduced to nothing but a loose thread on a knitted sweater.
"Come on in," he said, stepping to one side.
Catherine held her head high as she stepped over the threshold. Her long fingers with nails painted red gripped a black, shiny clutch. But it was the dark, waist-long hair falling over her shoulders that held him spellbound. Although he'd seen her picture and even recognized her from the news, he'd had no idea how truly captivating she was until he saw her in person. No doubt this would be one hell of a titillating night...
He watched as her high heels clicked across his shiny marble floor, her gaze traveling from the vases and statues on pedestals to the artwork framed on the walls. Her eyes froze on his Picasso. "It's magnificent," she said.
"Thank you." He thought the same thing about her but didn't say so.
"Nice place you've got here...the penthouse suite. I like it."
"So does my accountant. I pay him plenty to keep it up." He was pleased when he heard her chuckle. "Please, have a seat. Is Maker's 46 okay?"
"Sure."
He strode to the wet bar, trying to maintain his composure. He poured two glasses and brought one of them to her and the sat down on the white leather sofa.
The cold weather and panoramic view was all he could think of to talk about until the golden bourbon melted his inhibitions.
Then he made his move.
He set both of their glasses on the coffee table and pulled Catherine to her feet. Gathering her in his strong arms, he inhaled the scent of Argon oil wafting in her long strands of hair. He ran his large hands under the frothy curls, taking in the hardness of her narrow back. "I've wanted to do this since you walked through the door," he murmured.
"And I've wanted you to do it since I saw your picture on my computer."
He devoured her sweet lips with pure pleasure spiking through his groin. Slipping his thick fingers through her thin ones, he led her to the master bedroom, chagrined because he hadn't bothered to make the bed.
She didn't seem to mind.
The blackout curtains, left closed that morning, cut off the moonbeams outside the window. And so he rooted through the darkness until he found a small lamp on the nightstand. Touching the bronze base, the room filled with shadows and soft golden light. His eyes roamed over her jacket and then he reached out to undo the buttons and pushed it off her pale shoulders.
It hit the floor with a hush.
The full breasts jiggled beneath the lacey bra, sending his pulses racing overtime. Slowly, he reached out to unzip the pencil skirt, breathing heavily with anticipation. He nearly convulsed at the sight of her lace thong, flat stomach, and firm thighs.
All mine...at least for tonight...
"Excuse me, doctor..."
Adonis licked his lips and turned to see his nurse standing in the doorway.
"We have an emergency in the parking lot. A patient has collapsed and your replacement isn't here yet. He's fifty five and complained of chest pains all evening."
"Get the red box and meet me there," he said, rushing passed her. He sprinted down the hall and thudded the door to the waiting room as startled patients looked on. The glass doors leading to the parking lot flew apart and icy air assaulted his face and arms. It didn't matter. A patient was in distress and it was his duty to rescue him.
A tearful woman knelt beside a portly man lying on the ground. Under the parking lamps, the asphalt gleamed due to a recent drizzle. The night air was damp and clung to the fine hair on the doctor's muscled arms, chilled his throat and neck. Even so, he pressed on.
Once he reached the patient, he dropped to his knees, oblivious to the sharp pains spiking through his legs. He leaned forward to listen for a heartbeat. There was nothing. His own heart sank.
He studied the patient's chalky complexion, the slack mouth and closed eyes.
Where the fuck was the red box? He glanced around for Gabby. Normally, she was more efficient than any other nurse and so he was surprised that she wasn't there.
With no time to spare, Adonis tore open the man's dress shirt. Buttons flew in all directions. He crossed his hands and compressed the space between the ample breasts.
"I'm here, Dr. Bell."
"Thank God, what kept you?"
"Someone put the defibrillator in the janitor's closet."
"Great."
She opened the box and handed over two paddles which he placed on the patient's chest. Gabby shouted, "Clear" and pushed a button.
The patient flew upward but didn't cough or open his eyes.
"Clear." She pushed the button.
The jolt sent the patient flying but he still didn't wake up.
On the third try, the patient coughed and threw up. Adonis rolled him onto his side.
"Is he going to be all right?"
Gabby lifted her gaze to see the patient's thin, gray-haired wife clasping her hands and biting at her lips.
"Let's get him registered, okay?" she said, wanting to keep her out of the doctor's way. Gabby got to her feet, the knees and hem of her pants soaked through due to the rain. She led the trembling woman through the glass doors and across the waiting room to the reception desk with a hand rubbing her back until she finished signing in.
Two technicians appeared with a gurney. "On a count of three.." The men hoisted the heavy patient onto it with grunts and air rushing from their lungs. As the others whisked him away, Adonis took a moment to catch his breath. He stared at the vomit on his black shirt and wiped beads of sweat from his forehead.
Thank God the patient had survived. That was the only good thing that had happened to him all night.
Chapter Two
Catherine offered a weak smile to the doctor breezing through the door. He was not handsome, nor did he have Nordic eyes. He failed to shine with mind-blowing charisma when he said, "Hello." Catherine felt the sting of missing Dr. Bell although she never would have said so.
How ridiculous could she be?
The hot doctor may have filled her with unbridled heat, but what difference did that make when it came to her health?
Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was gone, something that she badly needed for her recovery. Gazing at Dr. Bell had triggered feelings, as if she'd known him for a million years. She suspected that they had, in fact, spent at least one night together. Why else would she have images of being in his king-size bed, naked, wrapped in his brawny arms floating in her head?
Hey, that was one thing she could remember...
Who in the world would forget a thing like that, even if she did have amnesia?
Millions of women around the world would no doubt give up a lung for a moment like that...
She shifted beneath the stiff white sheet, a smirk playing on her heart-shaped lips.
One thing that she'd never forget was the shame she felt for having one-night stands. Yet she had no idea how to change the pattern. Her long-term memory exploded with pictures of the beatings she'd taken at the hands of her father. What chance did she have of finding love/ She had to know what to look for first.
She refocused her attention on the thirty-something doctor beside the bed. He was as plain as whole milk and in desperate need of some sun.
"Are you okay?" he asked in a brittle voice.
"I can't remember what happened to me or why I'm even here. It can't get much worse than that."
"Yes, it can, believe me. You're going to be fine."
Easy for him to say...He's got a place to go.
The doctor took out a small light and shined it in one eye and then the other. "M-m-m-m...you do have a concussion. Will need a lot of bed rest." He pressed the sides of her neck and then leaned forward to study the spot above her left eyebrow. "And this needs suturing..."
Panic rioted throughout her body.
"If we don't close it, you'll have a scar and you won't look pretty on television anymore."
"What?"
"Have you forgotten that too? You're an investigative reporter for News Alive. I watch you nearly every night."
"How could I forget something like that?"
"Give it time. You've only been here for a couple of hours."
And memory loss can last a lifetime. Dr. Bell already said so...
Dr. Barber leaned in for a better look. "Yes, it is nasty but won't require too many stitches."
Catherine groaned.
"It won't be that bad, I promise." He gave orders to the nurse and she hurried from the room. A few minutes later, she returned with some instruments that she carefully lined up on a rolling tray.
She took a deep breath and with it, her entire body tensed. This time, the doctor squeezed her hand. "The paperwork says you were hit by a car. Firefighters extracted you using the Jaws of Life. This is nothing compared to that."
"But I don't remember it."
"The chemical sequence in your brain has been interrupted but I'm sure it's only temporary. Now, let's get this over with, shall we?"
The syringe was lying in plain sight. He picked it up and held it by his side. When he raised it, Catherine cringed and clutched the white sheet. He swiped the spot above her eye with cotton. The prick stung like the devil and she longed to be any place but at the hospital.
I'll bet I wouldn't even feel it if Dr. Bell was treating me...
How the hell had she gotten to this point anyway? One minute, she'd been watching Shark Tank and the next she'd been running for her life. Now, a doctor was threading a needle through her tender skin. She fought with all her strength to keep from screaming.
She had to suck it up or lose her career. Vague memories of appearing on camera swirled in her brain but seemed distant and almost like a dream.
Twenty minutes later, Catherine was ready to bolt right out of there, but she hadn't the strength to do it. She longed to close her eyes and never wake up, never have to face reality. If her memory failed to improve, she might end up a bag lady on the street. What other choice did she have? She couldn't remember the most important details of her former life What station had she worked for? Who were her friends?
Fear and anger knotted inside her. What if she never regained control? The thin woven blanket covering her legs suddenly wasn't enough to keep her warm. As the nurse put a bandage on her wound, Catherine breathed a sigh of relief. At least one small, ugly chapter of her life was coming to a close.
The nurse flipped off the lights on her way out as Catherine allowed her mind to drift to another place, a fantasyland where butterflies flew and dogs barked and played on lush green grass. She no longer had to worry about the future; in her dream, she was the master of her own destiny.
But it didn't last long. Frightening images took over and her heartbeat thrashed in her ears. Bare feet ran on asphalt. Air huffed in and out of her mouth. She ran down Hale Street near her house with a black sedan chasing her and quickly gaining ground. Glancing back, the headlights burned her eyes. She squinted and turned back, her thin cotton gown swishing around her ankles. The frosty wind cut through the fine cloth as if she wore nothing.
The last thing that she had heard was the mighty roar of the engine bearing down on her.
She clutched the stiff sheet and her frightened eyes darted around the room. Her skin perspired and her face drained of color. She couldn't breathe and jumped when she almost blacked out. Alone, wishing she had the handsome doctor to cling to, she shouted, "Help me! I need help!"
The nurse rushed in. Her silhouette was dark against the outside light, but Catherine recognized the stocky build and the hair pulled back in a giant clip. "What's the matter?"
"I guess I had a nightmare."
"The doctor left an order for you to have a sedative but you didn't seem to need it. I'll get it right away."
Catherine desperately needed it. No way could she relax on her own. Images of running down a carpeted hallway and into a bathroom were reeling through her mind and she couldn't get them to stop. When she came to the bathtub, she realized there was no other way out. She was forced to brace herself and jump through the frosted glass in the window, land on the concrete path with a loud thud. Glass splintered into hundreds of pieces, shattering the silence of the night. Pointed shards pricked her bare feet and she coughed up the smoky air cloying at her lungs. She was screaming. She was trembling. She was running. Rough concrete rubbed the bottoms of her feet. She made it to the wrought-iron gate, unlatched it, and ran across the driveway. She had to make her get away or lose her life.
She reached the crest of a nearby hill. Only then did she dare look back. Two men dressed in black ran from the house just as a powerful flash devoured her Spanish house, terra cotta fountain, and neatly cut lawn. Catherine was knocked to the ground as debris flew on top of her, burning her arms and legs, raining down on her head. The explosion was loud enough to bite her eardrums, leaving her deaf for several seconds. She screamed and covered her ears as flames ten stories high leaped into the midnight sky.
The two men hopped into a black sedan parked at the curb. The headlights flashed on and the motor roared up the hill toward her. She watched it come closer and then head in her direction. She then realized that it was time to run. Ice crystallized in her stomach as she thought about Daisy. Her little yellow dog was no doubt trapped inside the burning house. The yellow year-old foster Chihuahua had been found on the Coronado Bridge six months earlier. She had counted on Catherine to keep her safe and Catherine had failed her.
Poor dog never had a chance...
Catherine's insides twisted and agony seeped into every pore. A racking sob escaped her lips and for a moment, she didn't want to live. Maybe she was making too big a deal about the loss but Daisy was she had. Catherine's family had abandoned her years earlier and she owed the little dog for giving her the only unconditional love she'd ever known.
Lights were flipping on and neighbors in robes and pajamas streamed into the street. The black sedan had almost reached her and was picking up speed. She gazed at the unfamiliar faces surrounding her, wishing she hadn't worked so much so that she could have gotten to know them. The harsh beam of headlights was fast closing in but everyone was focused on the flames down below. Some people were even evacuating, leaving Catherine to fend for herself. She had no choice but to take off on foot with her heart ticking like a clock and her bloody feet begging for treatment.
"Relax, Catherine, it's Gabby."
Catherine's silky lashes flashed open to see Gabby poised on the edge of the bed. The nurse had caught her thin forearms in mid-air, as if they were about to strike a hard-as-steel blow. "You had another nightmare," she told the startled patient. Rising from the bed, she slipped a tube from the front pocket of her scrubs and inserted it into Catherine's I.V. Catherine's head spun for several seconds before she felt herself sinking back onto the bed and drifting into nothingness.
Chapter Three
Adonis tossed and turned for more than an hour and giving up on sleep, finally sat up in bed. He rubbed the back of his aching neck, exhausted after his thirteen-hour shift but too tense to simply drift off. The bedroom was hot and stuffy. He was ringing wet with sweat. He couldn't face the thought of staring at the ceiling any longer so he tossed back the covers and padded through the darkness in a T-shirt and pajama bottoms. When he flipped on the bathroom light, he was shocked to find two puffy, bloodshot eyes staring back at him from the medicine cabinet mirror.
Catherine French was going to be the death of him.
She'd arrived at the ER, battered and unconscious. The wound on her brow and the many burns and bruises on her body had caused his heart to drop. She was covered in soot from head to toe; her nightgown alone was filthy with small specks of charred debris littering the soft fabric.
But in his mind's eye, she was still stretched out on his king-size mattress, nude, and glancing at him playfully. He'd still felt for her what he always had and was compelled to save her.
In the last five years, he'd spend many lonely nights wondering where she was and what she was doing. Seeing Catherine again had hitched his breath, gave him one more chance to win her over. But he knew there was no point in even trying. She'd made it clear that she'd wanted nothing more to do with him.
And ironically, she was the only woman that he had craved, thought about, and longed for. She was easy to talk to and even easier on the eyes. A simple glance from her was enough to fill him with overwhelming joy.
But when she'd disappeared after the hottest night of his life, refused to return his phone calls and his e-mails, he'd been crushed, broken beyond repair. He'd moved on by burying himself in work and meaningless friends-with-benefits. No one got too close because he feared getting hurt again.
It was a pathetic way to live and yet the only way he had to cope.
He still craved the softness of her willowy body and the sweet taste of her mouth.
She had told him, on that night, that she had no one and lived all by herself. She hadn't told him why and when he'd asked, she'd drawn her arms close to her body and her shoulders quaked. Not wanting to upset her, he'd let the matter drop.
He regretted it.
Swinging open the door of the medicine cabinet, he read the labels on the bottles inside. Nothing there would knock him out for the night. He sank onto the toilet lid and held his head in his hands.
He had to help her. If he didn't who would? And maybe, just maybe, he'd get some answers to his questions like "Why the hell did you dump me after a stellar night?"
After a minute or two, a thought struck him so hard, he jumped to his feet. He hurried to the bedroom, fished his phone out of the pocket of his scrubs, and hit the button on his speed dial. He paced back and forth and then lifted the blackout curtain. White and colored lights flashed at him and headlights crawled along the long streets of downtown San Diego. A chill shot through his veins and goose bumps broke out on his arms.
"Hello, Dr. Bell."
"Hey Gabby...I've thought of a way that we can help the amnesia patient. When you get to work tomorrow, check the records. She had laparoscopic scars on her abdomen and she may have had the procedure done at the hospital. See if you can find an address for her..."
"All right, doctor. I'll see you in the morning."
"Catherine?"
She heard her name flow over her--sweet and thick, as smooth as spun honey. Her eyes fluttered open and she gazed at Gabby who stood at the foot of the bed, her dark eyes sparkling.
"I've got good news. I found your home address in the computer."
"Oh no..."
"I thought you'd be happy. The house only fifty minutes south of here and the Chief of Staff has given me permission to take you there." Seeing the tension on Catherine's face, she rounded the edge of the mattress and plopped down. "What's wrong?"
"It's not going to be all roses. I haven't been having nightmares; I've been having flashbacks. The house it gone."
"Don't say that until you know for sure. Want me to check the news?" She reached for the cell phone in her front pocket.
"No, knowing won't help. Let's go see what we can find out. I've got to have some reason to get up. I can remember the explosion but not who my insurance policy is with or if I even have one."
"You're thinking too far ahead. Take it one step at a time." She pulled back the thin cover, exposing Catherine's frumpy hospital gown. "You're going to need something else to wear."
Catherine swung her thin legs over the side of the bed, noticing that her feet were bandaged. When had that happened? "What made you look in the computer for my address?" she asked.
"Dr. Bell called me last night. He saw the scars on your stomach and thought you might have had surgery here at the hospital. You did, two years ago. You had your gall bladder removed."
Catherine thought for a moment, but nothing came to mind. The doctor must think I'm nuts, she thought, but thank God he was willing to help me...
She tried to stand but her head reeled and her weak legs buckled. Gabby caught her at the last second and easer her back onto the bed.
The stale air of the hospital room reeked of death and suffering. Catherine's eyes spilled hot tears as Gabby rubbed her back and offered words of comfort. Wrenching moans poured in from the hallway. Catherine could see several sick patients lying on gurneys outside the door. Along with worried family members and friends, the main area was filled beyond capacity. Nurses and doctors threaded their way between them to get to their destinations.
She forced herself to her feet and this time, managed to stay, despite the sting beneath the bandages on the bottoms of her feet.
"You can do it, Catherine; I know you can." She offered her arm as Catherine hobbled to the small bathroom at the end of the room. "While you're taking a shower, I'll look for something for you to wear. We don't have much, but anything beats that filthy nightgown."
She nodded toward a long piece of white flannel with a tread mark on the side. It was covered in grime and flung over the back of the chair.
Someone had cut it down the middle and jagged pieces of fabric hung on either side.
Catherine gave it a passing glance. "I don't remember it."
"You came in by ambulance. Someone called 911 after you were hit. The driver took off but police are looking for him...or her." She picked up the filthy gown with torn lace hanging from the bodice and tossed it in the trash. "You didn't want it, did you?"
"What on earth for?"
Panic swept over Catherine, leaving her hard pressed for air. She fumbled for Gabby's hand to keep her from collapsing. With the room spinning around her, she managed to inhale a deep breath and wait for the heart-thumping dizziness to pass. "My God, who would do that, just leave me there to die?"
"It could have been an accident."
"Journalists don't have accidents. Journalists have people who want to shut them up."
"Well, at least you remember something."
"But I can't remember who would want to hurt me."
"You should talk to the police."
"What good would that do if I have nothing to tell them?"
"You do have a point."
Gabby twisted the knob for hot water in the shower. A fast stream trickled onto the tile floor as Gabby untied Catherine's hospital gown, slipped it from her pale shoulders, and tossed it into a nearby hamper.
Catherine eased her weary body under the spray, allowing hot water to stream on her aches and pains.
"We'll change the bandages on your feet when you get out," Gabby said. "Will you be all right in the meantime? I'm going to look for something for you to wear."
"Yes, I'm fine."
Catherine picked up a tiny bottle of anti-bacterial body wash and dabbed it onto the places in between her wounds. To touch them would cause her unbearable pain. Hopefully, the liquid soap would trickle down and aid in their healing. Then she picked up another bottle of the same size and shape. That one contained balsam shampoo. Slinging her long, thick tresses over her shoulder, she scrubbed them hard and watched ash and embers swirl around the circular drain and disappear.
But the time she was done, Gabby was waiting for her with a large, fluffy towel. She wrapped around Catherine's wet, slender body.
Squeaky clean and fresh, Catherine felt like a new woman.
"Dr. Bell would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you. Have you noticed the way he looks at you?" She stopped drying Catherine's torso and searched her eyes for a response.
"Yes, he seems to really care about his patients."
"Not just any patient. He seems to really care about you. I've never seen him act like that before and I've known him for years. He's like a school boy."
"Maybe I remind him of someone he knows."
"Or maybe you're just the most drop-dead gorgeous woman around, even with the scrapes and bruises."
Gabby gushed and left the room and returned moments later with clothes slung over her arm. "The good news is that I found something for you to wear. The bad news is that it's the butt ugliest outfit in the world. I'm sorry, it's the best that I could do on short notice."
"It suits my butt-ugly mood."
"Come on now, you're on your way home."
"God only knows what I'll find."
She wasn't enthusiastic, didn't try to be. And when she looked at the outfit Gabby had dug up for her, she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The jeans were thin and worn, faded from blue to almost white, particularly in the knees. The sweatshirt had faded to an odd shade of orange, had been washed too many times, and had pilled. A splash of bleach had sucked the color out of one of the sleeves.
"These are items that The Salvation Army wouldn't accept and so they were donated to us. And the best is yet to come. For your feet, slipper socks, Cinderella! You're on your way to the ball!"
Catherine grabbed the fuzzy, striped balls from Gabby, her cheeks flushed deep red.
She should have been so lucky as to be on her way to the palace. And if dreams really did come true, Dr. Bell would be the handsome prince. Her fingers ached with the need to touch him.
Chapter Four
The Westwood neighborhood ebbed and flowed across a low-lying precipice overlooking a vast, gray blue lake. The waterline was low and the surface was minced with floating ash, but the brilliant hue still took Catherine's breath away, despite the gray haze hanging above. A row of single-story and two-story Spanish-style homes lined the perimeter. One of those houses must be mind, Catherine thought. She nibbled on a granola bar as Gabby drove south on Interstate 15 and glided onto the Rancho Bonito exit.
Black haze lingered above the street in front of them, filled their lungs, choking them.
Catherine inhaled a breath to cry and singed her lungs. Burned out apartment buildings and ash-covered parking lots made her shiver.
There had, in fact, been a fire.
Gabby pulled over in front of the one house on the block that had completely burned to the ground. The area seemed familiar to Catherine, except for the destruction. Some of the houses had holes in the walls or black streaks running up the stucco sides. But hers had been completely demolished
She gaped at the piles of gray and black ash and the embers swirling above them. Without having to ask, she knew instinctively that this was home-sweet-home. The free-standing chimney was all that was left undisturbed. It stood straight and tall in the midst of the ruin and staring at it made Catherine's stomach churn and growl.
Gabby cut the motor as Catherine stared at a charred SUV still resting on the foundation of the garage but the walls had burned down around it. Pieces of blackened furniture had been dumped in a nearby heap.
Even so, the magnificent lake still loomed bold and strong in the distance. The view was exposed as it never had been before. Curtains no longer hid it. No window frame obscured its serenity.
Catherine padded across the soot-covered sidewalk in her slipper socks. She stared at the rubble, not knowing what to do or say next. Grit clung to every breath, making her lungs ache, making fat tears threaten to fall from her burning eyes. The thrift store clothes swallowed her slender frame, making her feel as sloppy as an unmade bed. And when she turned to see the very top of the hill, the very spot where she'd stood and watched her home burn, an explosion went off only this time, it was all in her head. But the glowing embers drifting before her eyes were real, reminding her of orange snowflakes.
Heaving a heavy sigh, Catherine inspected the gritty pieces of her former life and found an ashy plank. It had once served as the polished top of her cherry wood desk. A melted computer with a shattered screen squatted nearby. She kicked the computer onto its side. Something worth salvaging might be underneath, but in the back of her mind, she was sickened by the thought that she might find Daisy. There was no way she could still be alive.
Hard times had roughened Catherine's heart but not where her little dog was concerned. She sobbed as the full weight of all she had lost came crashing down on her shoulders. This was not the American dream, not what she'd planned when she'd aged out of the foster care system. Her life was supposed to be perfect once she'd put the difficult years behind her. Coping with the loss would definitely be her biggest challenge yet--even worse than occupying a small space under some bushes behind the skateboard park, worse than worrying about college loans coming through, and worse than paying for food and bus fare by recycling cans she collected at night. After six years of living hand- to-mouth, she'd graduated at the top of her class with a master's degree in broadcast journalism. She had clawed her way upward from then on, without looking back.
Her success was based on the fact that she never allowed herself to dwell on the past although that strategy was bound to change in the near future. How could she possibly think about anything else but the happy life she used to have? Yesterday, she'd lived in a warm, cozy stucco house with curvy terra cotta shingles on the roof and the most faithful dog on the planet glued to her side. Now she had no reason to live...
Covering her nose with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, she leaned forward to search the rubble for something of value. Then striding to the back of the lot, she marveled at the vastness of Lake Azul. Not a twig around it seemed out of place despite the devastation less than three blocks away.
Life would go on as surely as the fact that ten-foot reeds were sticking out of the water. But it would take time, time she wasn't sure she had.
Catherine broke down and sobbed, wiping fat tears from her cheeks. "My heart is broken," she said to Gabby who stood beside her. "I remember now that I have no family. I paid for all of this with my own blood and sweat."
"At least you remember something..."
She shrugged. "What good does it do if I can't remember the one thing that I need to know--the name of the person who is trying to kill me?."
Her dark eyes opened wide and she suddenly gasped. "Look, it's my headboard." She pulled the blackened brass piece out of the rubble, having bought it years earlier at a flea market but had kept it even when she could afford better. Old things were like old friends, and she got a sense of security by keeping them close by. She'd bought the house to keep them safe. She'd wanted her very own spot that no one could ever take away. Funny how things had turned out...
***
Adonis crossed his brawny arms over his broad chest. Chief of Staff, Robert Olson, intimidated him in a way that few people could. His superior was six feet, four inches tall, weighed twice as much as he did, and had a scowl permanently etched on his gruff features.
"It's best not to get involved," he said after Adonis mentioned Catherine.
The color rose in his cheeks and he reeled back. "Normally I wouldn't. You know that. I've worked here for eight years and have never gotten personally involved before. But this patient is different. I know her and want her to stay at my place. I want to make sure that she is safe."
"She's got family for that..."
"No she doesn't. She was on her own when we met five years ago."
"She could be trouble, Don. You know very little about her or what she's been up to. You don't need the headaches and neither do I."
"There won't be any headaches. I have security guards and cameras at my place. She'll be safe there. I'll stay in a hotel."
The chief removed his gold wire-framed glasses and peered up at Adonis from behind his mahogany desk. His sunken cheeks and scruffy brows loomed dark and foreboding in the harsh glare of the desk lamp. "You will do no such thing. Now get back to work."
Adonis gaped at him. "I can't even take her to a hotel, even if I foot the bill?"
"You heard me."
"But..."
"Follow protocol and call The Red Cross."
Shit, there was no way that Adonis could bring himself to do that. Not for anything on earth. His forehead creased with tension. The chief was being unreasonable, but who could he complain to about it?
Adonis lowered his chin to his chest before twisting the knob on the door. "You're making a big mistake," he told Chief Olson. "I love this woman more than life itself."
A few minutes later, Gabby caught up with him at the elevator. "Here you are. I've been looking everywhere," she said.
He turned to her with a slack expression, his blue eyes wet and dull.
"Our problem is even bigger than we thought. Someone burned Catherine's house down. The whole neighborhood is in shambles."
Adonis stared at the ceiling and choked back tears.
"Are you all right? You don't look so good."
"Chief Olson won't let me take her to my house. I have a security system in place, guards and everything. It seems like the best place for her, especially if she has no house to go to."
"Why won't he let you take her there?"
"He's been an asshole ever since his wife died. If he can't be happy, he's going to make damn sure that no one else is either."
"Well, I can't keep her at my place. I live with my sister and her four kids."
He smiled faintly. "I wouldn't expect you to. Are you sure you got the right house?"
"I took her to the address I found on the computer. You were right. She did have her gall bladder removed at this hospital but she didn't list an emergency contact."
"That's because she doesn't have any."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Damn, I don't know what to do. I can't bring myself to call a charity. I just can't."
"I don't know what to do either."
"Where is she now?"
"She's in the back looking over a journal she found in the rubble. She thinks it might trigger her memory."
"Are you talking about me?"
Adonis whipped his head around to see Catherine staring at him with wide, anguished eyes. Her baggy jeans, sweatshirt, and sallow complexion made him cringe. She had gone from being a celebrity to looking like a bag lady seemingly overnight. If he'd encountered her on the street, he wouldn't have recognized her. He fought the sudden urge to pull her against him, to kiss her until she felt safe and sound in his strong arms.
He fought the urge to pull her against him, to kiss the pain away.
"I don't want to be in your way," she said, covering her flushed face with a dark strand of her long hair. "I can live anywhere, even under a bridge or on a park bench."
"It's not going to come to that." He planted his large hands on his narrow hips to appear more calm and collected despite his twitching muscles. "First, you should talk to the police. They need to know anything you can remember."
Catherine reeled back, tugged at the sleeve of her sweatshirt, but didn't say a word.
By the time the officer arrived, she was in the back room, resting on gurney. She saw Adonis gesture toward the door and then waited outside. The swarthy female had a chest pumped like a rooster ready to crow, and biceps the size of a body builder's. She tried not to gape as the woman lowered her bulky frame onto a rolling stool.
Catherine crossed her pale arms and shrank against the white wall.
"So what can you tell me about last night?" Officer Maria Mendoza asked. She flipped the cover of a leather notepad and took out a pen.
"Not much. I can remember running and having a car chase me but that's about it."
"Know what was in it?"
Catherine shook her head.
"You don't know or won't tell."
"Why would I lie?"
Adonis was in no position to pick a fight with the officer, but he hated the accusation.
The officer dipped her brown hand into her shirt pocket and pulled out a black smartphone. "Does this job your memory?"
"If it's mine..."
"An investigator found it in the rubble."
Catherine grabbed it and frantically pushed buttons and read messages. "Here's one from another volunteer at the shelter. She wants me to meet her there tomorrow."
"Do you trust her?"
"I don't know."
"Don't go. It might be a setup."
"And it might be the only way to regain my memory."
"It's not worth risking your life for..."
"It is if someone is trying to kill me."
The officer sat silently and Adonis agonized because he wanted to jump in so badly, but he knew it was not his place.
"I wasn't going to tell you this yet, but a witness got the license plate number of the car that hit you. It belongs to the executive director of the shelter."
***
"Take Catherine to my place downtown. Take my car and use the GPS for directions."
"Are you sure?" Gabby asked. "I thought the Chief said..."
"Never mind that. Catherine is in serious trouble. I'll handle the chief."
His mouth was turning to dust. Wrenching his keys out of his pants pocket, he shoved them into her hands. Who knew how much time they had before someone came looking for her?
Beads of sweat lined his wide brow and the odor of antiseptic swamped him. The contents of his stomach turned to sludge.
He cleared his throat, stalling for time as tears threatened to fall. A booming laugh thundered from the next room. Adonis took out a tissue and dabbed at the sweat. Hurrying down the hall, he scrambled for an excuse to tell Chief Olson why Catherine was about to leave with Gabby. Thankfully, he rounded the corner and saw that the man he'd heard was not the Chief but another man with a deep voice.
Adonis slumped against the wall and bowed his head.
Gabby hurried to get Catherine as Adonis forced himself to refocuse on the patients. While reading a patient's history, Gabby shouted, "We're leaving now."
Catherine stood beside her with a square bandage still on her forehead and a black bruise on her jaw. She looked like a waif in orphan's clothes and he could hardly bare it. The wet, stringy hair and potato-sack outfit blew his heart to pieces. He wished he could take her shopping, but he didn't have time. Too many sick patients were depending on him. "I'll take a taxi home," he called back. "Keep the car until morning."
He disappeared into an exam room where a teenage boy waited with his fretting parents. According to hospital notes, he'd been cutting boards using an electric saw and had accidently cut off the fingers on his right hand. The parents had brought the bloody appendages into the ER in a bucket filled with bloody chunks of ice, hoping that they could be sewn back on.
But once Adonis had introduced himself, the urge to look back nagged at him until he couldn't resist it anymore. Beyond the door, he saw Catherine lingering as if she had something to say. He called for a nurse, gave her preliminary directions for treating the patient, and then focused his attention on the woman who made his pulses race.
"I don't want to stay at your place. I'd be too much trouble."
"There's no place else for you to go. Please hurry. I don't want anything to happen to you."
"What about your family?"
"I haven't got one." I love only you, he wanted to say, but didn't.
Their eyes locked and Adonis was spellbound. They were suddenly reading each other's thoughts, feeding on each other's neediness With his heart knocking in his chest, he cupped her delicate jaw with his mighty hands. No words were spoken; none were needed. Her lips called to him silently like they had before. He saw her sprawled on his bed in shadowy, golden light from the lamp on his nightstand, the slope of her back and the rise of her ass sending crashing waves of pleasure through his groin.
He lowered his head and kissed her, lost in his intense craving for the taste of her rosy lips, nude and full of natural color. The kiss was soft enough to make the fine hair on his arm stand straight up, his member harden to a full erection.
When he finally withdrew, she stared at him with large eyes stunned and confused.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that..."
She backed away and then made a dash for the back door.
"Catherine, wait. Let me explain."
After passing through, she hopped into the passenger seat of his Range Rover as Gabby hit the gas.
He heaved a heavy sigh, reasoning that he was under stress and that was why he'd lost control. He could lose his job for disobeying Chief Olson's orders. He could ultimately lose his career. But that was not what worried him most. The startled expression on Catherine's face proved that she didn't have the vaguest recollection of their night together and he wished it had never happened.
The kiss stayed on Catherine's lips as she and Gabby cruised down the I-15. The skies had cleared and the sun was blazing as if there had been no rain at all. That was California weather for you, at least in the last twenty years or so. Conditions changed abruptly and there was no way to know whether or not to wear a sweater or at least a long-sleeved shirt.
Not that that was a problem for her at the moment. She'd have been grateful for a single pair of underwear. The fuzz inside the sweatshirt was coarse from many washings and it scratched her tender skin. She turned her attention to the changing scenery at the end of town. Gas stations and strip malls became hills with brush and soon Gabby crossed Interstate 8. They were now passing Hotel Circle and heading south to downtown San Diego.
The houses on the hills above were old and barely standing. Gabby hung a right, swerved onto another street, and drove down the right lane beside green landscaping and newer buildings. She stopped at a skyscraper of yellow brick and gold reflective glass so high, they couldn't see the top. Turning right, Gabby pulled into the driveway and recognizing the Range Rover, ushered her through the security gate.
As Gabby eased the car into a parking space in the garage, Catherine marveled at the silver Maserati parked in the next row. She wondered who it belonged to and if Adonis knew him or her. Wouldn't that be something? She pulled the door handle and was about to get out when the walls of the car seemed to close in on her. She swooned as sweat dampened her hair and clothes. She held her head, waiting for the dizziness to pass.
Gabby waited in the driver's seat, her round hand poised on her vinyl purse. Finally, she asked Catherine if something was wrong.
"My heart is beating a million miles a minute."
"Sounds like a panic attack. We'll go whenever you are ready."
Catherine was hesitant to explain her feelings at that moment. Not everyone had lived in foster care and knew how truly horrendous it was. She hadn't really cared for any of her foster parents or her foster brother and sisters, although some she could tolerate more than others. She never knew what to expect when a social worker drove her to a new place, but you could pretty much bet that she'd hate the experience for one reason or another. Arriving at the Sapphire Towers with a nurse by her side brought back all of the painful memories she had tried to forget.
Her throat closed and she couldn't inhale. Clutching the handle of the door, the color drained from her face. She gasped a couple of times as Gabby waited patiently. After a moment or two, Catherine begged for help.
"I'm here. Breath easy," Gabby said, holding Catherine's hand.
Catherine was gasping again and staring out of the windshield with wide open eyes. After a minute, Gabby pulled the lever and pushed open the driver's door.
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