Dylan had forgotten how Alex felt in his arms…

How her body fit around his and seemed to become a part of him. He ached to give her the kind of solace they both needed, where they could lose themselves in each other and forget about what was going on around them.

As he lay back with Alex asleep against him, he wished for those nights again, wondering what would happen if they could go back to that happier time. Would a second chance mean they could avoid the pitfalls they’d encountered before? If she didn’t regain her memory, who could say whether she’d revert to the power-hungry lawyer she’d been toward the end of their marriage? And if she did regain it, well, things would likely just go back to the way they’d been anyway.

Alex had broken his heart once before. Dylan didn’t intend to let it happen again.

Dear Reader,

I adore bad boys. They’re forbidden—which just makes them more appealing! But then there are the fun-loving good guys. They’re the ones who make us laugh and love them all at the same time. But maybe, just maybe, there’s enough of that bad boy inside them to create an interesting mix.

That was Dylan Parker from the beginning. I always felt that while I originally created Dylan as a sidekick, he took over and demanded his very own life. Maybe it was a form of payback that I paired Dylan back with his ex-wife, Alexandra—his polar opposite. I gave them a second chance to have what they deserve, a chance for the very best of this cynical hero to shine.

I hope you enjoy Alex and Dylan’s rediscovery of each other as much as I enjoyed writing their story.

Best,

Linda Randall Wisdom

Memories After Midnight

LINDA RANDALL WISDOM

Books by Linda Randall Wisdom

Silhouette Intimate Moments

No More Secrets #640

No More Mister Nice Guy #741

In Memory’s Shadow #782

A Stranger Is Watching #879

Mirror, Mirror #1049

Small-Town Secrets #1131

Roses After Midnight #1235

After the Midnight Hour #1367

Memories After Midnight #1409

Silhouette Romance

Dancer in the Shadows #49

Fourteen Karat Beauty #95

Bright Tomorrow #132

Dreams from the Past #166

Snow Queen #241

Silhouette Special Edition

A Man with Doubts #27

Unspoken Past #74

Island Rogue #160

Business as Usual #190

A World of Their Own #220

LINDA RANDALL WISDOM

grew up never imagining being anything other than a writer. In high school, her journalism instructor encouraged her fiction writing, but in college, her journalism advisor told her she wouldn’t get anywhere in fiction writing while women were needed in the newspaper field. She wasn’t totally derailed, just delayed for a while until the day she wrote her first two novels, Dancer in the Shadows and Fourteen Karat Beauty, which she sold to Silhouette Romance on her wedding anniversary in 1979. From that day on, she never looked back.

She lives in Southern California with her husband, a spoiled rotten terrier/Chihuahua mix named Bogie, who’s also on her Web site, four parrots, five Siamese fighting fish and a tortoise named Florence. All of her pets have shown up in her books. She also likes to include at least one true incident in each book. Many of them have come from friends and prove that truth is stranger than fiction!

She can be contacted through her Web site: www.occrwa.com/lindawisdom.

A heartfelt thank-you to police investigator (ret.)/mystery author Robin Burcell for patiently answering any questions I had about forensics. You are the greatest!

Any errors made are entirely my own.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Prologue

How could she have been so stupid?

Alexandra Spencer took great pride in having a strong instinct for trouble. A corporate attorney, she was known for her ability to ferret out a client’s deepest secrets and never failed to uncover the truth if she felt a client was lying to her.

So how did she miss something this important?

Dylan would have a field day if he knew about this. Her insides tightened at the idea of her ex-husband finding out his ex-wife, who always made sure every i was dotted and every t crossed, had a dirty client that could land her in trouble with the bar association. Just because she could state she wasn’t aware of her client’s illegal doings didn’t mean it couldn’t come back to bite her in her integrity.

And all because she found an unlabeled CD in her briefcase and took a quick look at it on her notebook computer only to discover she’d somehow picked up something that didn’t belong to her—but displayed clear-cut evidence of her client’s nefarious activities. Now she wished she had thrown the CD away. If it ever came to light, her reputation would be in shreds and disbarment would have been only the beginning of her career’s downward spiral.

Once upon a time Detective Dylan Parker would have teased her mercilessly that she should know better than to read CDs that didn’t belong to her. Too bad she hadn’t thought about that before opening the files. She wished she could make the damn CD suddenly disappear and erase all memory of its contents. What a mess!

Thoughts of her ex-husband had been stealing into her mind lately, just as they had last year on the anniversary of their divorce. Alex knew why. She’d never failed at anything—until her marriage. But then she hadn’t tried as hard as she could have, had she? Instead, she worried more about pleasing her clients than holding her marriage together. That particular thought bounced her mind back to the dirty client who now sent her temper soaring.

Her week-long business trip to San Francisco had gone smoothly, until the last day. For a woman who believed in keeping her life tidy, she sure managed to whirl up a mess in a short amount of time.

With swift steps, she headed across the airport parking lot to her car, vowing that first thing in the morning she would waste no time in tossing said client to the curb. Time to take out the trash.

“This might as well be one of those old British thrillers,” Alex muttered as she searched for her car in the dusk—and the misty gray fog rolling in didn’t help matters any. The mercury-vapor lamps that had just flickered on did nothing more than lend an ominous glow to her surroundings. It seemed as if her plane had barely landed when the fog descended on the land. She could hear the faint hum of the security guard’s cart patrolling the other end of her aisle, and a muffled conversation between two men who were having trouble finding their cars in the next. With the chilly fog swirling around her, she knew how they felt, though she also knew she had nothing to worry about as she finally spotted her car. Still, she felt unusually tense—even uneasy—and realized she’d feel a lot better once she rid herself of her slimy client.

She shifted her briefcase strap over one shoulder while pulling her small suitcase behind her, using her thumb to hit a speed-dial number on her cell phone. As soon as she heard the recorded greeting she tapped out the two numbers that would connect her to her assistant’s voice mailbox. “Hi, Janet, it’s me back from the trip from hell. I know I say it every time, but this time I mean it. From now on it’s the train. I can’t handle flying in those small commuter airplanes.” Alex finally reached her car and stopped at the driver’s door, disarming the alarm with the keyless remote that also unlocked the door. “I need you to pull some files for me. I have to make some—”

Rapid footsteps sounded behind her. She started to turn but a sharp pain to the side of her head blocked all thought. It happened so swiftly she didn’t have time to cry out. Alex’s head connected with the unforgiving metal door of her car; then her world turned black.

Chapter 1

A fiery spike bored its way into the side of Alex’s head. Her eyelids fluttered as she fought her way past the blistering pain.

“Hey, sweetheart, think you can open your eyes for me?” The gruff voice only added to the agony.

She carefully opened one eye a mere slit, then quickly closed it as the bright overhead light sent more pain slicing through her head.

“I’m now blocking the light. Why don’t you try opening your eyes again,” the voice suggested.

When Alex opened her eyes she found the lack of direct light more tolerable. The man bending over her wore rumpled green surgical scrubs.

“Where…?” She managed to push the word past her lips.

“You’re in the emergency room at the Sierra Vista Medical Center,” he said, straightening up. “And you look good—except for some trauma from the blow to your head, but that’s expected.”

She frowned and quickly discovered even that small motion sent that fiery spike driving down even harder. She started to lift her hand to her head, but the doctor clasped it and kept it down.

“Not a good idea. We’ve still got to clean you up and put in a few stitches.”

She licked her dry, cracked lips. “What happened to me?”

“You were mugged in the airport parking lot. A passenger on your flight saw the attack and called Security. Unfortunately, the thief got away. I’m afraid you ended up with a nasty gash. Seems that you were hit on the head, then you fell against your car.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” she murmured, fighting to understand his words. Why was she at the airport? She hated to fly.

“Muggings never do,” he said crisply. “Think you can answer a few questions for me?”

She hoped they were easy ones. “I’ll try.”

“First off, how many fingers am I holding up?” He held up his forefinger and middle finger.

“Two and please don’t tell me you’re holding up one and I’m seeing double.”

He smiled. “Nope, we’re doing okay there. How about any nausea or dizziness?”

At his question Alex suddenly turned green. The doctor took immediate stock of the situation and handed her a small basin just in time.

“Thank you,” she whispered, feeling horribly embarrassed.

“One of the side effects from head injuries, I’m afraid,” he replied. “Better now?”

“Nothing that an aspirin couldn’t take care of. Maybe two—” she paused “—or two hundred.” She cautiously lifted her hand to push a stray strand of coppery-red hair out of her face. She feared she looked as bad as she felt, and she felt as if she had been in the middle of a cattle stampede.

The doctor smiled. “That’s something we can take care of after we make sure you’re in one piece. Do you know what your name is?”

She was relieved the questions were still easy. “Alexandra Elaine Spencer Parker.”

“Do you know what day it is?”

“Tuesday,” she said without hesitation.

“What about the date?”

Alex opened her mouth, then shut it again. “I—ah— I…” Tears sprang to her eyes as she struggled to remember the date. She felt confused and frustrated. “I’m not sure.”

The doctor didn’t say anything as he jotted some notes on her chart. “I wouldn’t worry about it. You had a pretty bad blow to the head. Head injuries like this can affect the memory. It’s a protective process since you instinctively want to forget what brought about the pain. Running some tests will also help us see how much trauma you’ve suffered and how to treat it. Once they’re done, I’ll stitch you up,” he said.

Alex may have had the headache from hell, but she was still a lawyer. She could smell a lie a mile off and this man was lying to her.

“There’s more to it than a bad headache, isn’t there?” she asked.

“The laceration on your scalp was pretty deep. As a precaution we just want to make sure there isn’t any further damage,” he said. “Head wounds can be tricky, so I like to be doubly sure.”

“My husband!” She started to sit up, but he gently pushed her back down. “Did anyone contact him?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of that.” He used a soothing voice.

Alex frowned. “I do remember that I was in here about a year ago for a sprained ankle.”

“Then you’re in our records.” He nodded at the nurse, who moved off. “You just lie here and rest.”

“Easy for you to say,” she grumbled.

The doctor smiled sympathetically. “There’s an officer out front who’s waiting to talk to you about the attack.”

“I don’t know what I can tell him. I really don’t remember anything about what happened,” she said, then laughed. “Since I can’t remember the date, I guess I couldn’t be expected to remember being robbed, could I?”

“I can tell him you’re not ready to speak to anyone just yet,” the doctor said. “You need to get down to Radiology for those X-rays.”

“No, let me talk to him now and get it over with.” She lay back against the pillow.

He nodded reluctantly. “I’ll have him come on back, then.”

Alex was convinced the baby-faced officer was no more than twelve years old. She assumed he must have recently joined the Sierra Vista police force since he didn’t look familiar to her. She hadn’t been married to Dylan for very long, but she had come to know many of the officers and detectives in the town’s police force.

As the officer questioned her about the attack, she realized she really did remember nothing. She looked at the doctor with questions in her eyes.

“Loss of memory from a head injury like that isn’t unusual,” the doctor explained. “Trauma to the head has been known to block out memories of recent events.”

“But why do I remember the day of the week but not the date?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “We don’t know why some things are retained and others aren’t.”

Alex closed her eyes. Everything would be fine now. They’d call Dylan and he’d take care of everything.

“Hey, Parker, I thought it was your turn to host the poker game,” Ron Davis, a detective in Narcotics, said as he tossed a chip onto the table.

“Franklin and I switched since he goes on vacation next week.” Dylan Parker hadn’t looked at his cards yet. He liked to wait until it was his turn to ante up.

The Domestic Crimes detective felt lucky tonight. He might even go home with money for once instead of leaving most of it with Davis or Greer, who was Davis’s partner.

The fast-paced tune from the 1970s television show Batman sounded loudly in the room. The other four detectives stared at the origin of the tune coming from the cell phone clipped to Dylan’s belt.

“Hey, Batman, your bat phone is ringing. Commissioner Gordon must need a hero.”

Dylan Parker looked down at the cell phone. He checked the Caller ID. “I am off duty tonight,” he muttered, then reluctantly answered the phone. “Parker.” His body froze as he listened to the caller’s words.

The other four men watched him intently.

“Okay, who set this up?” he demanded. “Because whoever did will pay big-time. Trust me, this is not funny!” He impatiently listened to the caller. His expression suddenly changed. “She was what? All right, I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.” He disconnected the call and stared at each of the men seated around the table. “So help me, if I find out this call is a joke, I will make sure the person behind it comes to a world of pain.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” one of the other detectives demanded.

Dylan sighed. “That was the medical center. They said my wife was mugged at the airport parking lot and she’s in the ER.” He studied the cards he held. It would have to be his first winning hand of the evening. With a muttered curse, he threw down the cards and unfolded his six-foot-two length. The backdrop of male laughter followed him as he left the apartment.

As a police detective with the Domestic Crimes Unit, it wasn’t Dylan’s first visit to the emergency room. Over time he’d interviewed his share of victims in the ER and been treated himself. But this was the first time he was there because the victim was someone he knew. Intimately.

By the time he arrived at the med center parking lot, his stomach was churning.

His and Alex’s divorce hadn’t been a pretty one. The woman knew how to extract her pound of flesh. His being forced to pay one hundred dollars per month in alimony was as good as rubbing salt in a wound. Not that the alimony was all due to Alex. The judge they’d been up against didn’t like Dylan and ordered him to pay one dollar a month—an order they all knew was like a sick joke and would have been reversed on appeal. Dylan only made matters worse by saying a few things that didn’t sit well with the judge, which caused the order to change to one hundred dollars per month. Dylan’s attorney wanted to appeal the order, but Dylan didn’t want to. He was positive a psychologist would have a field day with that scenario. A professional would have said the order left a thread, even a hostile one, between Dylan and Alex. Dylan preferred saying it gave him a chance to annoy Alex once a month.

Dylan decided if Alex wanted alimony, fine, she’d get it, but not in the form of a monthly check. He took his revenge in more creative ways, whether it was a donation to the San Francisco Aquarium made in her name, or sending her a cactus with one hundred dollars in pennies embedded in the pot. He learned the hard way not to send her one hundred lottery tickets—her winning fifteen thousand dollars from one of those tickets still rankled.

Except for barely two minutes last winter when he and his partner had interviewed a rape victim at Alex’s law offices, he hadn’t spoken to his ex-wife. For safety’s sake, dialogue between the divorced couple had been kept to the bare minimum. That worked best for them.

Alex was so beautiful he’d never understood why she’d accepted his marriage proposal. At first, he’d thought it was love. He had fallen for her hard the first moment he’d seen her. She was quick with words, understood his jokes and there had always been something about her that convinced him they were meant to be together forever. It wasn’t until later he discovered the fiery redhead’s exterior didn’t seem to match the interior. It was as if she had no desire in maintaining their marriage, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why. He felt that all that mattered to her was staying on the fast track to partnership. After their divorce, he vowed relationships weren’t in the cards for him and went on to pick up the pieces of his damaged life.

The security guard stationed near the ER entrance doors nodded at Dylan as he walked up. The moment he stepped through the automatic sliding glass doors, a uniformed officer approached him. The waiting room was empty except for a man sprawled asleep in a chair. A television playing a black-and-white movie was bolted onto a shelf set high up against the wall. A bowl of colorful silk flowers had been placed at the admitting clerk’s desk in an attempt to cheer the place up, but in Dylan’s opinion it didn’t do a bit of good.

He walked up to the reception desk and identified himself to the clerk, asking for Dr. Kelly. Luckily for him, it was a slow night, so he didn’t have to wait long.

The bearded man in wrinkled surgical scrubs approaching him looked tired. He carried an insulated coffee container in one hand.

“Hey, Detective Parker,” he said, greeting the detective with a broad grin. “I can guess why you’re here. You were listed as next of kin in Alexandra Spencer’s records, not to mention she asked specifically for you.”

“Yeah, I heard.” He grimaced, wondering if there was anyone in this town who didn’t know the gory details of his divorce.

Dr. Kelly nodded. “That’s right. Come on back.” He used the flat of his hand to press the button to open the double doors leading back to the treatment area. Dylan stayed on his heels.

“How bad was she hurt?” Dylan asked.

“The thief struck her on the side of the head with a sharp instrument that left a two-inch laceration. She also has a nasty cut on her cheek, a black eye and a cut lip. The blow to the head created trauma to the part of the brain that controls the memory, which is probably why she thinks the two of you are still married. She knew her name and other things, but while she knew what day it was, she couldn’t remember the year and drew a blank on other things I asked her. I want to make sure there’s no permanent damage, so I sent her down for some tests.”

Dylan felt as if he’d been hit with a two-by-four. While he and Alex had had a less-than-pleasant relationship after the divorce, he wouldn’t have wished violence on her. He struggled to think more like a cop than the man who had once shared her bed.

“We’ve been divorced for two years. Why would she still think we’re married?” he muttered. Just saying the words sent a flood of acid to his stomach. He noticed the expression on the other man’s face. For a moment, fear overtook the other emotions rolling through him. The doctor used the words “permanent damage.” Was there a chance something was seriously wrong with Alex? He thought of her delicate features, framed by a thick mane of coppery red hair. Memories of tangling his fingers in the silky mass intruded. He ruthlessly pushed them back. “What else aren’t you telling me?”

Dr. Kelly lifted his cup and drank. He grimaced as he turned to set the cup on a nearby table. “Seems most times when I finally get to my coffee it’s gone cold. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. The broad term for what Alex has is psychogenic amnesia. A more understandable term for laymen would be selective amnesia.”

“I came in here with a concussion eight months ago and my memory wasn’t affected. All I ended up with was a bad headache,” Dylan pointed out.

Dr. Kelly ran his hands through his hair. He looked exhausted. As he spoke, he used his hands to illustrate his points. “All head traumas are tricky. Sometimes a patient loses all memory. They might need to relearn everything about themselves and how to exist. Others retain what we call selective memories. We call it an instinctive way of protecting oneself from reliving that trauma. Some people have been known to repress pieces of their past as far back as a year or two.”

“How does this happen to one person and not another?” Dylan asked.

“It depends on the location of the blow to the head,” he explained. “One part of your brain dictates memory, another rules motor function, another speech, taste and so on.”

Dylan exhaled a deep breath. “So what exactly are you telling me? Is she all right or isn’t she?”

“As I said, when Alexandra was brought in, her recall was spotty. She knew her name, what city she was in, but she couldn’t remember her home address or telephone number. She remembers that she’s a lawyer and where she works, but she can’t remember the name of the last client she talked to.”

“Yeah, she’d remember she’s a lawyer all right,” he murmured, feeling a strange tug in the pit of his stomach. “But that still doesn’t explain why she thinks we’re still married.”

“She might have been thinking about you at the time of her attack,” Dr. Kelly suggested.

Dylan shook his head. “That I seriously doubt.” He felt the acid in his stomach turning into a tidal wave.

The doctor watched him closely. “Is this going to be a problem? What about her parents? Do they live locally?”

“They live in Seattle,” he replied. “There’s no reason to call them.” He doubted they would have come anyway. He remembered Alex once telling him that her parents cared more for their work than her. They’d gone as far as shipping her off to boarding school when she was seven. Dylan decided right then and there that her parents weren’t needed. He took a deep breath as he considered what had to be done. “Alex needs to know the truth about us. Trust me, she would want to know.”

“Yes, I can see she would want to know, but it still needs to be handled carefully. She’s feeling pretty fragile right now. I think it would be better coming from you.”

Dylan spun around. “You want me to do it? You’re the one with a medical degree. Shouldn’t you do it?”

“You’re the man she believes she’s still married to,” Dr. Kelly pointed out. “Right now, she feels confused and probably even afraid because of the memory loss. I think she sees you as her very own personal lifeboat.”

“It would be easier to cut out my heart with a butter knife than sit down with her and explain how wrong she is,” Dylan argued. “If you think she’s so fragile, wouldn’t it come better from you? That way you can watch her vital signs or whatever you need to do so the news doesn’t traumatize her.”

“I can watch her vital signs while you’re talking to her,” Dr. Kelly said.

“Or we could let it go for now, let her have a good night’s sleep and maybe she’ll wake up in the morning remembering everything,” Dylan said hopefully, with just a hint of desperation. The expression on the other man’s face said differently. Dylan’s laughter didn’t hold an ounce of humor. He resisted the urge to tear his hair out by the roots. “You don’t understand, Doc. Since the divorce, Alex and I can’t even be in the same building without starting an argument. Our stars collide. We’re oil and water. I want her to know the truth.”

The doctor seemed to relent. “I’ll tell you what. We’ll see what the test results show first. How’s that?” He turned around when a nurse gestured to him and mouthed something. “Okay, she’s back from her CAT scan. Let me take a look at those results, then I’ll stitch the lacerations. We’ll see after that.”

“Now that all the tests are done, could I have something for my headache?” Alex pleaded as she was assisted back onto the gurney.

“After the doctor checks on the X-rays,” the nurse assured her as she adjusted the blanket around her.

Alex looked past the nurse and noticed the man standing next to Dr. Kelly. She couldn’t miss the gray hair, so incongruous with the features of a man in his early thirties. For the first time that night she felt that everything was going to be all right.

She knew that Dylan Parker was a force to be reckoned with. Over six feet of pure male, with thick premature-iron-gray hair that was cut fairly short and eyes the deep gray of evening fog, Dylan was a man who commanded attention wherever he went. There was something about him that had a woman trusting him without question. No wonder Alex, who never let any man turn her head, fell into this man’s bed right away. Dylan had charmed her from the first moment they met and she hadn’t lost that feeling for him.

Even the pounding inside her head couldn’t deter the faint stirring of lust growing within her as she stared at him. She was convinced that feeling wouldn’t disappear even when they were both old and gray. She tamped down that emotion and settled for the need to feel his arms around her.

“That’s my husband over there. Can he come in with me?” she asked.

The nurse glanced over. A brief light of appreciation appeared on her face before she turned back to Alex. “I’m sure the doctor will allow it,” she said, leaving Alex.

Alex watched the nurse walk over to Dylan and the doctor and speak to them. Dylan turned around and stared at her with no expression on his face. After a word from the doctor, Dylan walked toward her.

The minute he was close enough to her, she reached out for his hand.

“I am so glad to see you,” she said, holding on with a tight grip as if she feared he’d disappear. “Maybe you can explain what’s going on and why I was at the airport. You know how I hate to fly.”

He knew, all right. He wondered if it didn’t have something to do with control issues. “You came in on one of the commuter flights from San Francisco. How do you feel?” he asked, trying to keep a distance when a part of him wanted to pull her into his arms and make sure she was still in one piece. For a guy who claimed to heartily dislike his wife, he was experiencing some conflicting feelings at the moment.

Truthfully, she was disappointed that he didn’t immediately take her in his arms, or at least vow the man who hurt her was going to be sorry he chose Dylan’s wife for his victim.

“I feel like someone’s playing baseball inside my head,” she said.

“Which we can soon take care of,” Dr. Kelly said, coming in while the nurse rolled in a tray.

Dylan took one look at the instruments on the tray and blanched. He tried to disengage himself from Alex’s grasp.

“I can wait outside,” he muttered, trying to edge backward.

“No, please don’t go,” Alex pleaded with him. She held tightly on to his hand. Now that he was here with her, she didn’t want him to disappear.

Dylan looked down at her face. The delicate features were puffy and bruised from her injuries and faint streaks of blood were visible through her tangled hair. He moved back to stand next to her.

“We’re going to have to shave a portion of your hair in order to stitch up the laceration,” Dr. Kelly said. “The good thing is the laceration is in a place where you can later brush your hair over the shaved section. The cut on your cheek isn’t very long and shouldn’t leave a scar.”

Dylan remained by Alex’s side as the doctor injected a local anesthetic, waited for it to take hold, then carefully inserted the stitches in her scalp. He knew the local anesthetic meant she didn’t feel anything, but that didn’t stop him from feeling queasy at the sight of the needle flashing in and out of her skin. He looked off into the distance, intensely aware of her slender hand wrapped tightly around his.

“Your test results look good. I couldn’t see any swelling in your brain,” Dr. Kelly said.

“Good for you, maybe. For me it’s just more of a sense of confusion and a great desire to go home,” Alex said hopefully.

“I thought a head injury meant Alex would have to stay here for observation,” Dylan said.

Dr. Kelly shook his head. “Not according to the insurance company, since her test results came out fine. All she’ll need is observation at home.”

“Even if I can’t remember some things?” she asked, then noticed Dylan and the doctor exchange a look. “What’s wrong? What haven’t you told me?” She looked at each man. Her green eyes widened with fear as thoughts of the worst imaginable scenarios flooded her mind. “You have to tell me!”

Dylan grimaced. “Dr. Kelly and I talked about a few things that might help clear up some of your memory gaps.”

She didn’t miss the way he avoided her gaze. While she didn’t feel any nausea, she did experience a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Any gaps in particular?”

“One gap, actually.” He walked around to the other side of the gurney and picked up the chair, turning it around to sit with his arms folded across the back.

Alex flicked a quick look in the doctor’s direction, but she couldn’t see any answers there.

Dylan reached across and took her hand. She instantly felt comforted by his touch. He stared down at the sheet as if he’d find the words written there, then took a deep breath and looked up, obviously steeling himself for what he was about to say. “Alex, you always like things up front, so that’s how I’ll do this. The main thing is, we aren’t married any longer.”

She felt a sock to the stomach even if his blunt statement had been gently delivered. “What do you mean we’re not married any longer? If this is a joke, it’s not funny.”

He nodded. “Our divorce was final two years ago next week.”

Alex started to shake her head but remembered in time that wasn’t a good idea. “No, that doesn’t make sense. Why would I think we’re married if we’re not? Why would I forget something like that?” She hated herself for babbling, but she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what to say. This was another first for her. Alex always knew what to do and say in any situation. For a second, she savored the feeling that she felt certain about something about herself.

“As I explained to you earlier, Alex, head traumas are tricky.” Dr. Kelly stepped in. “The mind tends to protect itself any way it can by blocking distressing events such as your attack and sometimes what went on beforehand. Which is why it’s called selective amnesia.”

Alex looked from Dylan to the doctor. “So what you’re saying is that I selected to forget part of my past,” she murmured. “I tiptoed through my brain, picking and choosing what I’d remember.”

Dr. Kelly shrugged. “Interesting way of putting it, and basically, yes, that’s what you’ve done.”

“You told me earlier you can’t give me a time frame when my memory will fully return or even if it will.” She looked down at her hands, absently noting the skinned palms and that one French-tipped nail was broken. The nurse had applied an antibiotic ointment to her palms earlier, but they still stung. Tears pricked her eyelids.

“I’m sorry, Alex, there’s no way to tell with these things. Injuries like this need time to heal,” he said gently.

She continued staring down at her lap because she didn’t want to see the pity visible in Dylan’s gaze. She realized he knew things about her she didn’t know. They were divorced, but she had no memory of why they parted.

The doctor might call it selective amnesia, but she preferred to call it a nasty joke fate had played on her.

With this thought came another realization. She no longer wanted to be in this place that smelled of antiseptic and fear. She wanted to go home, be among familiar surroundings where she hoped she could find comfort. Except if she couldn’t remember where she lived, how could she expect her surroundings to be familiar to her?

She looked up at the doctor. “You said I can go home. Does that mean I can leave right now?”

Dylan stepped forward.

“That can’t be a good idea. I still think you should stay here at least for the rest of the night,” he protested. “Hell, if the insurance company says no, I’ll even pay the bill.”

“I just want to go home,” she murmured, swallowing the sudden need to cry.

Dr. Kelly nodded. “I’ll write prescriptions for antibiotics and some pain meds. Once the local wears off, you’re going to want something to take the edge off. Your personal physician can take out the stitches in about ten days. Do you have someone who can check on you through the night?”

“She won’t be alone,” Dylan said, taking the prescriptions out of the doctor’s hand. Then he muttered that he’d take them over to the all-night pharmacy across the street and hurried out the door. He didn’t notice the startled look on Alex’s face at his assurance as he left.

When he returned to the ER, Alex was dressed and waiting for him. Even with her cuts and bruises and a black eye, she was strikingly beautiful. Hair the color of copper fire escaped its French braid. Her brilliant emerald eyes were shadowed with pain and fatigue. He noted that the freckles on her nose she always tried to cover up were now visible. He always thought they were cute, but she said they ruined the professional image she wanted to project. He winced at the sight of the scraped skin on her knees, which looked raw and painful. He doubted she’d be wearing that obviously expensive turquoise suit and matching high-heeled pumps again what with the tears in the skirt and the leather scraped along the side of her shoes. Her tan wool coat looked as if it had been dragged through mud and the collar was stained with what looked suspiciously like blood.

His beautiful angel looked very much the worse for wear.

Dylan felt shock all the way down to his toes when he saw the hint of tears shimmering in her eyes. He’d never seen Alex cry or show any sign of weakness. He moved forward. Her fingers were twisted so tightly together her knuckles were white.

“Want to get out of here?” he asked gruffly.

“Yes, please,” she whispered, gratitude lighting up her face.

He held out his hand and she placed hers in it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. Instead of perfume he inhaled the sharp tang of disinfectant, the rubbery smell of bandages and the cotton scent of gauze. Her body wobbled a bit, and he quickly reached out with his other hand to help steady her. She shot him an appreciative smile and took a deep breath. Instead of releasing her once her balance was restored, he kept his hand linked with hers.

Dylan had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

The only hint of illumination in the large corner office was a small lamp set on a corner of the highly polished walnut desk. A Mozart sonata played softly in the background. He sat in his leather chair contemplating the postcard view of the Golden Gate Bridge spanning San Francisco Bay. His fingers were pressed together in steeple fashion as if he were praying. Except this was the last man to pray to anything but the almighty dollar.

The phone’s soft ring was an unwelcome intrusion. He instantly silenced the sound by pressing a button on the chair arm that activated the telephone speaker, then muted the music with the touch of another button.

“Good evening, Leonard. I hope the matter has been rectified?” In keeping with his lush surroundings, his voice was soft, but it seemed menacing at the same time.

“Not exactly, boss.”

His voice turned to an icy tone that had sent more than one employee quivering. “And why not?”

“We got her briefcase and suitcase, but we didn’t find what you wanted inside either of them.”

“Would you care to tell me why you didn’t take her purse?”

“She wasn’t carrying one. Then some guy yelled so I had to get out of there before Security showed up. We got rid of the briefcase and suitcase, but we kept her computer, money and credit cards to make it look like a robbery.”

He wasn’t pleased with his employee’s work. “Then you didn’t accomplish what I sent you up there to do, Leonard. You will just have to stay up there and find my property before she discovers it. Where is she now?”

“An ambulance took her away. We’re outside the hospital now.”

“I doubt she will worry about her belongings tonight. Do not leave the hospital until she does. Then follow her home and keep watch. Find a way to go in when she leaves her living quarters,” he ordered. “I want that CD before she has a chance to look at the contents and discover my alternate business.”

“You got it, boss.”

“I mean it, Leonard. I do not expect you and your brother to return until you obtain that CD. If you fail, I suggest you consider leaving the country.” Amid the man’s protest, he disconnected the call.

He sat there for several moments, looking out at the bridge, whose magical lighting never failed to calm him.

He hoped she hadn’t read those files. It would be a shame to lose such an efficient attorney.

Chapter 2

Alex stared at the metallic green pickup truck. She could see what looked like a small airplane from World War II painted by the door handle. But her memory told her he drove a black Mustang. Just how much of her life had she forgotten?

“I wish I knew what has been going on.” After Dylan’s revelation about their divorce, she realized her life had taken some turns she couldn’t understand just now.

“I’m sure Janet can fill you in on a lot of it,” he said as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“So she still works for me?” She exhaled a sigh of relief. “I’d hate to think I forgot about having a new assistant. Am I still with Will’s firm?”

Dylan’s jaw tightened. “Yep.”

Alex wondered at his dark expression. She vaguely remembered that Dylan never liked Will Zane, senior partner and owner of Zane and Associates. She put that down to the fact that Will was a criminal-defense attorney who got more than his share of clients off. Could Will be the reason for their divorce? She found her thought processes still muddled, but her head didn’t seem to ache as much when she closed her eyes. In moments she’d slipped into a light sleep.

Dylan glanced over at her and breathed a sigh of relief. He knew she had plenty of questions. He was glad for a reprieve, however short it may be, before he had to answer them.

Once they arrived at Alex’s condo complex, Dylan wasted no time in waking up the manager and obtaining a key to her place.

“Alex,” he murmured, leaning over her to gently shake her shoulder. “Time to wake up. You’re home.”

You’re home. Not we’re home tickled the back of her mind. That’s right, we don’t live together anymore. Sorrow filled her at the thought.

Dylan slid his arms under her body and gathered her up against him.

“I can walk,” she murmured, looking up at him with emerald eyes drowsy from medication. She looped her arms around his neck and rested her cheek against the hollow in his shoulder.

“Sure you can, and you’d probably fall on the first step. Indulge me.” He started for the stairs. “Man, Alex, you couldn’t choose to live on the ground floor?” he muttered as he climbed the stairs to the second floor. A warning beep sounded when he opened the front door. Dylan adjusted Alex against him and experimented with four numbers. The red blinking light immediately turned green. “Lucky you still use your birth date for your security codes.”

A raspy meow greeted them as he walked farther into the dark interior.

“Hey, Clarence,” he greeted the Siamese cat weaving its way around his ankles and threatening to send both humans tumbling to the floor. He fumbled for the light switch. Two lamps sprang to life illuminating a cream-colored couch decorated with bronze-colored pillows. The room looked as if it belonged in a decorator’s showroom instead of someone’s home. Dylan set Alex down carefully on the end of the couch.

She slowly opened her eyes and looked around with confusion. “This is where I live?”

“Yep.” He crouched down in front of her. “You feel okay?”

Alex looked around when the cat jumped up on the couch and pushed his head under her hand. Looking down, she was relieved to see something she recognized. She scratched the cat behind the ears. A rumbling purr eased her anxiety. She straightened up, feeling a bit more alert.

Dylan straightened up, too. “I can imagine you want to get cleaned up. Just don’t forget what the doctor said. With those stitches you can’t take a shower, but you can take a bath as long as you don’t get them wet. Do you need any help to the bathroom?”

She took mental stock of herself. “No, I think I can make it.” To prove her point, she carefully pushed herself to her feet and gave a mental thank-you when she didn’t sway or feel the need to reclaim the couch. She managed a brief smile. “See? Just don’t expect any fancy moves.”

Dylan nodded. “Okay. I’ll see if I can find you something to eat.” He moved out of the room.

Alex gathered the cat in her arms. “You’re the only thing I recognize here,” she said softly, burying her nose in the cat’s ruff. She felt lost when the cat wiggled free and hopped down to the floor, running after Dylan.

She got up and walked down the hallway, peeking into each room. Her bedroom was obvious but unfamiliar to her. The sense of unreality continued as she looked into a closet filled with clothing she didn’t remember purchasing. She sorted through a large number of suits and an even larger number of high heels on built-in racks below. What she couldn’t find was much in the way of casual clothing.

“I’m Alice,” she told herself as she stepped into the bathroom decorated in warm shades of bisque, olive, cream and bronze. “I just fell down the rabbit hole. I’m in an alternate reality. After a good night’s sleep I’ll wake up to discover I’m back in the world I belong in and everything will be the way it’s supposed to be.” She looked around. “Or not.”

Alex took a quick sponge bath, then wrapped up in a thick yellow terry-cloth robe. She braced her hands on the sink edge and leaned forward to study her reflection in the mirror. With her hair brushed away from her face she could see the shaved section of her scalp and the dark line of stitches stark against her pale skin. The sharp angles of her face appeared more prominent against the bruising. She grimaced at the swollen dark purple bruise marring one eye, and the cut bisecting her lip and scratches on one cheek.

A tear slowly made its way down her cheek. She plucked a washcloth off a nearby rack, dampened it and pressed it against her eyes.

“Since I don’t seem to have the answers, I’m going to have to rely on Dylan to supply them to me,” she whispered to herself. She shored up her courage at the same time she tightened the sash to her robe and left the bathroom. As she walked through the living room she stopped to pick up her coat, which had been tossed across the back of a chair. She grimaced at the stains on the fine wool, but didn’t want to deal with it just then and stuffed the coat in the closet.

The minute she walked into the kitchen the ding! from the microwave oven sounded.

“How about some old-fashioned chicken noodle soup, straight out of the can?” Dylan asked, taking a bowl out of the microwave and setting it on the table.

She sat down and started to eat, wincing as the hot liquid burned her cut lip. Dylan got up and retrieved an ice cube from the refrigerator, dropping it into the soup to cool it.

“Do you think they’ll find my briefcase and suitcase?” she asked.

“They’ll probably show up somewhere. Just don’t expect to get your cash, credit cards or valuables back. You’ll need to make sure to cancel your credit cards.” He picked up his cell phone that had been lying on the table and tapped out numbers. “Yeah, it’s Parker from Domestic. There was an assault and robbery out at the airport earlier tonight. Alexandra Spencer.” He grimaced. “Yeah, her. You find out anything yet?” He dug a small notebook out of his pants pocket and began scribbling. “Do me a favor. Have him call me on my cell. 555-7177. Thanks.” He turned back to Alex. “They couldn’t find any prints but yours on the car. No one suspicious was noticed lurking around the lot. They’ll pull the security tapes from the parking lot cameras in hopes they can find something there. They’re also checking all the trash containers for your briefcase and suitcase.”

Alex stared down at her soup. She set her spoon down and looked across the table at Dylan. The question that had been plaguing her since Dylan told her the truth finally fell from her lips.

“Why did we get a divorce?”

Dylan was silent for so long she wondered if he was going to avoid her question. She was grateful he didn’t avoid her gaze as she waited for his answer. She just wished he’d tell her what she wanted to know.

“It’s been a rough night for you, Alex. Right now you need to think about getting better. Not worry about something you can’t control,” he said finally. “Everything will come back to you in time.”

Alex’s retort was short, concise and extremely blunt.

He shook his head. “If you were honest with yourself you’d admit you’re not in the best shape tonight for a serious discussion. Why don’t you try to get some sleep? We can talk about it in the morning.”

The last thing Alex wanted to do was wait until morning, but she knew Dylan was right. She wasn’t in shape for anything right now.

“What do you plan on doing?” She knew the doctor had told him she shouldn’t be alone, which was why Dylan planned to spend the rest of the night there. She would have preferred his doing it because he wanted to, not because he felt some sort of duty.

“I’m going to make a few more calls and see what else I can find out, although it’s still pretty early to know too much.” He picked up her bowl and carried it to the sink. “You really should get to bed. I’ll be out in the living room. If you need something, just call out.”

Feeling dismissed, Alex slowly rose to her feet. “While I would like nothing more than to act like the brave little soldier and tell you I’m fine, my body is telling me it’s best to crawl into bed and forget all about tonight.” She uttered a short laugh. “Although I guess I shouldn’t worry about forgetting anything when you consider what I’ve already forgotten.”

Alex took one of her pain pills and crawled into bed. Clarence jumped onto the bed and curled up against her chest. His growl-like purr was a comfort to her battered spirit.

“How come I remember you, Clarence, but I don’t remember my marriage ending?” she whispered to the cat, grateful for the reassurance.

“The woman doesn’t believe in food,” Dylan muttered after a thorough search of cabinets and the refrigerator. Last night, after making a few phone calls, he’d stretched out on the couch in the living room only to discover that while it was fine for sitting, it wasn’t made for sleeping.

A few sips of strong, hot coffee helped banish the cobwebs from his foggy brain, but he knew his stomach wouldn’t fare as well. The refrigerator was next to empty.

“Like a few calories would kill her,” he muttered, wrapping his hands around the mug.

When his phone rang, he glanced at the caller ID before answering. He was glad to see the call was coming from the forensics lab.

“Yeah.”

“It’s Greg. Thought you might like to sneak in here and get a look at the airport security tapes. Maybe you’ll recognize someone Robbery doesn’t.” He hesitated. “I heard your ex thinks the two of you are still married. How’s that going?”

“That’s been cleared up.” Dylan silently cursed. No doubt the whole Sierra Vista police force had a betting pool going on how long before one of them would throttle the other. Knowing those guys, the odds were in Alex’s favor. “Think you can help keep the gossip down to a dull roar?”

The man laughed. “Yeah, like that’ll happen. So we’ll see ya in a few?”

He glanced at his watch and thought of what he had to do first. “It will probably be a couple of hours before I can get in there.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Dylan had just disconnected the call when Alex came into the room looking like the self-composed woman he was familiar with. So why was his first inclination to strip off those clothes and find the sexy woman he’d first fallen in love with?

She wore tailored, dark cocoa pants and a terra-cotta silk blouse. Her hairstyle was more casual with the thick waves covering the stitches. If it wasn’t for the bruised face and dark shadows under her eyes he’d think he was looking at the Alex he was used to battling with. There was no doubt she hadn’t spent a restful night.

“Wow, you look very 1940s,” he said. “Sort of a cross between Veronica Lake and Barbara Stanwyck.”

“Sultry and stern. That will definitely make an impression.” She took the filled coffee mug he held. “Thank you.”

“Actually, that was my cup.”

“And now it’s mine.” She sipped the hot brew. She noticed the odd look on his face as he gazed at her. “What’s wrong? Or do I not drink coffee now?”

“As far as I know you still drink gallons of the stuff.” He turned away and filled another mug. “I would have cooked breakfast, but you don’t seem to have much food in that fancy refrigerator of yours. So I guess we’ll be going out.” He immediately stilled her protest. “Speaking from personal experience, you need to have food in your stomach when you’re taking heavy-duty pain meds. I also would prefer you not go into work today.” His gaze swept over her clothing.

“I can’t sit around and do nothing,” she said. Her immediate attitude brought to mind the arguments they’d had in the beginning…that usually ended with his tumbling her into bed.

Then the arguments had grown colder and sharper and they walked away from each other, until the day they walked away from each other and they didn’t even look back.

Dylan thought for a moment. “How about this, then? I need to go into the station and check some things out. What if I drop you at your office, you do whatever you need to, and I’ll pick you up in a few hours?”

“If I had my car I could drive,” she told him.

“Not with those pain meds. This isn’t some injury that required a Band-Aid, Alex. You need to take it easy. If you drove to your office, you’d find a reason to stay there all day and tire yourself out.”

He didn’t see that once-familiar stubborn flash in her eyes that signified she was firing up an argument. Instead she walked over to the window over the sink and looked outside at the fog that still lingered. A strange look crossed her face and disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

“Perhaps you’re right,” she admitted slowly, continuing to look outside. “I admit I’m still not up to speed. But I also feel the need to do something.”

Dylan looked at the woman that he suddenly felt he didn’t know. The Alexandra Spencer he knew was fearless. He’d seen her verbally nail a man to the wall without breaking a sweat. But the woman before him didn’t have that same ruthless streak. Her vulnerability brought out his protective instincts and raised feelings he thought he’d buried.

He hooked his cell phone on to his belt.

“Well, let’s head out and get some breakfast first. I’m sure we can find some sort of low-fat, low-cholesterol, high-fiber food you’d find appropriate,” he told her.

He watched her take a deep breath, as if she were readying herself to go into battle.

“When I was in the emergency room, I realized if it had been a few inches over to one side I could have died. When I think about it, I realize that calories and cholesterol don’t matter. This morning, I want eggs, bacon and French toast with lots of syrup,” she said, heading for the closet near the door. She pulled out a lightweight wool blazer in a rich shade of cocoa. “And you’re paying.”

Alex was wide-eyed as she looked around the noisy restaurant. She noticed a good portion of the clientele were police officers, some who greeted Dylan by name when they walked by their booth. The music system blared the Rolling Stones and black-and-white photographs of men in military uniforms passed for artwork, along with vintage Coca-Cola posters.

“Is this restaurant new?” she asked, leaning across the table so Dylan could hear her.

He shook his head. “Tank’s been here for, oh, maybe fifteen or twenty years.”

“Oh.” She studied the menu.

“You won’t find any yogurt and berries here, sweetheart.” A cup of coffee in a white ceramic mug appeared in front of her.

Alex looked up at the source of the growl. Tall, bald and intimidating were the first three words that came to mind.

“No fancy flavored creamers, either,” Tank told Alex.

“I drink it black.” She picked up her cup and discovered the brew was strong enough to carry her into the following week.

“Tank owns the place and does most of the cooking,” Dylan explained to Alex. “You can’t scare off Alex, Tank. She’s a lawyer.”

“That must have been one dissatisfied client,” Tank said, looking at Alex’s face.

“And here I thought the makeup did a great job of hiding the damage,” she said with a wry smile.

“The lady has some class. There’s hope for you yet,” Tank told Dylan. He turned to Alex. “What’ll you have, sweetheart?”

“Do you think I could have two eggs over easy, bacon and French toast?” she asked

He nodded his approval. “You want your usual?” he asked Dylan.

“Yeah.”

Alex looked inquiringly at Dylan.

“Ham-and-cheese omelet topped with a salsa that can burn your tongue off, hash browns and sourdough toast,” he explained.

“You must come here a lot,” she said.

“It’s always been pretty much a cop hangout.” He drank his coffee.

“But he doesn’t—” She stopped.

“What?”

She shook her head. She realized she didn’t want to go on. It was apparent that Dylan came here a lot, yet the owner didn’t know her. That had to mean they didn’t come here when they were married. She did remember that she never considered breakfast an important meal. She’d been happy with coffee and a bagel at her desk. No wonder she felt as if she were tiptoeing across a mine-field—more because of what she didn’t remember than what she did.

“Nothing,” she murmured, taking refuge in her coffee cup.

Even with her troubled thoughts, Alex soon discovered they didn’t interfere with her appetite. Under Tank’s smiling approval, she ate a hearty breakfast fit for a lumberjack.

“Honey, you can come back anytime,” he rumbled. “You don’t even have to bring this bastard in with you.”

“I’m the one paying the bill,” Dylan grumbled, digging in his pocket for his wallet. “And I’ll be the one leaving a tip.”

“Then make sure you tip appropriately.” The burly man scowled at him, then turned to Alex with a smile that she easily returned. “You better get the SOB who hurt her,” he said, turning back to Dylan.

“I intend to.” That was a vow he was determined to make good on.

“It was very nice to meet you,” Alex said, offering Tank her hand. “I have an idea that I haven’t had a breakfast that wonderful in a long time.”

“Okay, okay, his head’s swelled enough,” Dylan muttered, ushering Alex out of the diner. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. People would think you hadn’t eaten in months,” he said.

“For all I know, I ate that much yesterday,” she replied. “But I don’t think so.”

“I don’t think so, either. You were always big on counting calories and eating healthy. Today was the first time I saw French toast pass your lips.”

“Right now, that doesn’t seem as important.” She suddenly shivered as if a chill passed through her even though Dylan had cranked up the heater after he turned on the engine.

Dylan noticed the tremors running through her hands. He figured Alex wouldn’t appreciate it if he commented on it.

“Has anything else come to mind since last night?” he asked.

“Nothing. Just thinking about it makes my headache worse.” Her fingers, which were lying in her lap, twitched. “If it wasn’t for that plane ticket I wouldn’t have known I was in San Francisco yesterday.”

“Can you think of any clients who might have given you trouble? Anyone who might think you didn’t do a good job for them?”

“I’m a corporate attorney, not criminal,” she reminded him, laughing at the idea. “If my clients aren’t happy with my services, they look for another attorney. They don’t have me attacked and robbed.”

“There’s always a first time.”

Alex shook her head. “I’m just an attorney dealing with dry facts.”

Dylan felt a strange sensation zing through his body. He remembered Alex saying something very similar when they’d first met at a city employee softball game, which Alex had attended as a city councilman’s date. It hadn’t taken him long to become convinced they were perfect for each other and imagine they’d spend the rest of their lives together. Dylan, the former party animal, saw them as the perfect couple with the clichéd house with a white picket fence, a dog and 2.5 kids running around in the backyard. But after they got married, Alex seemed to become obsessed with her career—at the expense of their relationship. He knew he hadn’t been perfect back then either. As Alex turned away from him more and more, he became just as remote. He walled off his feelings and he knew for that he shared the blame in the death of their marriage. So why did he still feel that old lusty hunger when he looked at her?

“Maybe Janet can think of something,” he said.

“It seems that you’re focusing an awful lot of attention on nothing more than a simple assault.” She knew she sounded sharper than usual, but she was already tired of the attention she’d received. Her memory might be damaged right now, but one thing she did know was that she preferred remaining in the background unless she was in court. “You’re saying you feel one of my clients is to blame for this. I refuse to believe that.”

“In my world, there’s no such thing as a simple assault,” Dylan said flatly.

Alex thought of what Dylan must have seen in his work dealing with domestic violence. “No, I guess there isn’t,” she murmured. “I guess I just want to get past this as fast as possible.”

Pulling into an empty spot in the office building’s parking lot, Dylan shut off the engine and stared out the windshield.

“There’s no such thing as a simple assault when I go into the ER and see a woman in pain, scared out of her mind and unable to understand why she lost the last two years of her life. In more ways than one, the woman I saw last night wasn’t the Alexandra Spencer I knew.” His voice softened as he turned to face her. “I don’t want to see that frightened woman again, Alex. And I don’t want you to do anything that could hurt your recovery. But I promise you, we will find these men and they will pay for what they did to you.”

She smiled faintly. “I know, Dylan. And I thank you for that.”

He nodded as he climbed out of the truck and walked around to her door. He helped her step down and walked beside her to the building entrance.

“Ms. Spencer, what happened to you?” the building security guard seated at the front desk asked her with concern, then directed a cold stare at Dylan. His expression warmed the moment it swung back to Alex.

“Now I know what it means to be mugged, Barney.” She smiled at the guard, waiting as he pushed the button releasing the electronic gate that allowed them to pass through to the elevators, then he noted her and Dylan’s names and the time in his log.

“If Zane was serious about security in his building, he’d hire someone with actual experience,” Dylan commented as they ascended in the elevator. “A rent-a-cop with a stun gun isn’t enough to stop a pissed-off client.”

“Barney’s also a martial arts expert,” she pointed out, grateful she remembered that little fact.

“Unlike in the movies, fancy moves don’t stop a bullet.”

“Are you trying to say that whoever attacked me could show up here?” She shook her head at the grim expression on Dylan’s face. “This wasn’t some sort of conspiracy plot, Dylan. People get mugged. Unfortunately, I was the latest statistic.”

“Anything’s possible, sweetheart.”

She shook her head. “From what I understand I looked like a likely victim, what with the fog and all. Muggings happen.”

“Don’t be so quick to assume it’s random. Just because you think all your clients are walking on the right side of the law doesn’t mean they might not be doing something illegal they’re afraid you’ll find out about.”

She winced as a sharp stab of pain struck her in the vicinity of her wound. She lifted her hand to gently touch the area.

“That is ridiculous,” Alex argued. “I told you. All of my clients are legitimate business people. I don’t want to believe any of them would do worse than cheat on their income taxes.”

“Come on, Alex. You, of all people, know better. White-collar crime creates a lot of headaches for the cops,” he pointed out harshly.

Alex was taken aback by his tone. She didn’t ask him for clarification; she didn’t need it. She knew that Dylan dealt with the predators and comforted the prey. She knew no one was perfect, but she didn’t like to think that anyone she dealt with did something that warred with her own moral code. Even if she did know success in business didn’t make everyone honorable in their private lives.

She turned back to face the elevator door when it slid open. For the first time in hours, Alex felt as if she was in a familiar place that wouldn’t offer her any surprises.

She forestalled questions from the receptionist by smiling and nodding while walking swiftly toward her office.

Her assistant, Janet, a petite brunette, sprang up from her desk. She grabbed Alex’s hands and studied her face with dismay. “Oh, Alex! What happened to you?” she asked her boss. “I’ve been calling your apartment for the past hour. I was listening to your message on my voice mail, then I heard you cry out and the line was disconnected. What did the doctor say? Should you even be here today?” She displayed a pained expression of sympathy when she noticed the stitches peeking out from behind the artfully draped lock of hair and the cuts and bruises on Alex’s face. Her eyes widened when she saw Dylan, and her manner instantly turned to frost.

Alex stared at her assistant, concentrating on her first statement. “I called you last night?”

Janet nodded. Her eyes were filled with concern for her boss. “You said you wanted me to pull some files for you. You were emphatic that you wanted to take care of something first thing this morning.”

Alex’s breath caught in her throat. Could her call have something to do with her attack? “Whose file did I ask you to pull?”

Janet shook her head. “That’s all you said before you were cut off.”

“We need a copy of the voice mail.” Dylan verbally barged in since it was obvious the woman was intent on ignoring him.

Janet glared at him. “Come on, Detective, you know very well we’re talking attorney-client privilege.”

“And as you stated, no names were given during the message, so there’s no breach of confidentiality,” he countered. “But there might be background noise to help identify her attacker.”

Alex could feel her headache intensify. She wished she had asked the doctor when the pounding would stop or if she’d have to continue existing with someone tap dancing inside her head. Now she had to deal with the two people in front of her. What had Dylan done to cause such animosity in someone as sweet-natured as Janet?

“Dylan’s right, Janet. If I didn’t say any names there’s no reason he can’t hear the message. Would you please make a copy of it for him?” Alex cut in, afraid the two would come to blows.

She nodded reluctantly. “Of course. Do you want some coffee, Alex?” Her eyes flicked over her face. “Or maybe you should have some juice instead. Are you sure you should be here?”

“She’s only going to be here for a couple of hours,” Dylan said, maneuvering his body to stand next to Alex so Janet had no choice but to look at him. “I’ll be back to pick her up after I’ve checked out a few leads.”

Alex stepped around both of them and headed for her office. At the moment, she was looking forward to sitting down. But not for the world would she admit any weakness to Dylan. She sensed if she did he’d bundle her up and take her out of the building.

“Alex! I heard you’d just come in.” Immaculate in a chalk-stripe suit with Italian tailoring, Will Zane was the picture of a successful attorney. Walking toward Alex, he muttered a curse under his breath as he saw her face. “What happened?”

“I was robbed in the airport parking lot,” she replied. “But I am fine,” she said firmly. She didn’t miss that her boss had likewise ignored Dylan. She knew Dylan could be irritating at times, but she hadn’t realized there was animosity between Dylan and the people in her office. “It looks worse than it feels,” she lied gamely.

“I should be back in a couple of hours,” Dylan told her.

“Could you see when they’ll release my car?” She knew she would feel better when she had the assurance of her own transportation at hand.

“I’ll find out.” He glanced at Will. “Counselor, do you have a minute? You, too.” He looked at Janet. He walked out without waiting to see if they would follow.

“It’s getting more curious by the minute,” Alex whispered, watching the trio leave her office. She knew exactly what Dylan was going to say. She wished he would let go of his cop suspicions and realize what happened to her was nothing more than a random assault. It would be a different matter if it had been Will who had been attacked. A good many of his clients were accused of violent acts to begin with. She glanced down at her desk and began opening drawers.

Dylan walked partway down the hallway where he felt comfortable he wouldn’t be overheard.

“The blow to Alex’s head affected her memory,” he said bluntly. “So don’t expect her to be up to speed this morning.”

Will’s expression stiffened, showing the hard edges he exhibited in the courtroom. “Why the hell isn’t she in the hospital? Head injuries aren’t something to fool around with.”

“The ER doc ran tests and said there was no serious trauma,” Dylan said. “Only what they call selective amnesia. With luck, her memory will return in full force in no time.”

Will’s jaw tightened with anger. “What part of her memory? She knows us. And she knows you.” He flashed Dylan a look filled with disgust.

Dylan chose to ignore it. He’d given Will a hard time when Dylan was on the witness stand and he knew he’d be doing it again in the future. “When she was in the ER she thought we were still married.”

“What?” Janet couldn’t hold back her shock at his announcement.

Dylan knew the duo standing before him had never liked him, which had never mattered since he wasn’t too fond of them, either. Will Zane had a bad habit of getting guilty criminals out of jail. Janet just plain didn’t like him for reasons she never cared to share and Dylan never cared to pursue. “I explained to her last night that we’re divorced and she’s still trying to recover those memories, but the doctor said it could take time.”

Will looked off in the distance for a moment as he digested Dylan’s words, then he turned back to him. “Are you saying a neurologist didn’t check her out? Or didn’t you think to demand that? Oh, that’s right.” He snapped his fingers. “You’re no longer married to her and have no right to insist on proper medical treatment.”

Dylan seriously thought about putting some nasty creases in the attorney’s silk tie. “Believe me, if I thought Alex needed a specialist I would have insisted on one even if I had to drive to the doctor’s home and drag him out of bed. If the ER doctor thought she needed to be seen by one he would have asked for a consult. Since he went to medical school and I didn’t, I deferred to his experience.” He flashed a wolfish smile.

Will wasn’t amused. “Amazing you were the one to make all these decisions for her.”

“Yeah, isn’t it? It seems I was still listed as next of kin on her hospital records. Look, if there had been a chance she was in medical danger I wouldn’t have allowed her to leave the hospital even if I had to handcuff her to the bed.”

“So why are you standing here instead of being out there trying to find who hurt Alex?” Janet demanded.

“I’m actually going into the station from here to see what I can find out. Alex wanted to come in this morning, so we compromised that I’ll pick her up and take her home after a couple of hours.”

“I’m not due in court today. I can run Alex home when she’s ready.” Will displayed a take-charge manner few dared to battle.

“I’ll pick her up when she’s ready,” Dylan said softly, with a finality that couldn’t be missed. He started back down the hall.

Alex was seated at her desk, going through her calendar in her computer, when Will walked in and took the chair opposite her desk.

“Seriously, Alex, are you sure you should be in today?” he asked, trying not to stare at her face.

“It only hurts when I laugh,” she quipped.

Will and Janet exchanged a look.

“What?” Alex didn’t miss their silent exchange.

“Nothing,” he said quickly. He glanced up at Janet, who hovered by Alex’s desk. “Is there anything time-sensitive Alex needs to worry about?”

“Will, I can speak for myself,” Alex protested with a laugh.

“Just humor me,” he said. “Is there?”

“No,” Janet said promptly. “Alex had planned to take her vacation at the end of this month, so she was making sure she had everything in order.”

Alex looked up with surprise. “I’d planned a vacation?”

“You’re booked for a two-week Caribbean cruise,” her assistant told her. “I made the reservations for you about six months ago.”

Alex stared at her desk. She was booked for a vacation she didn’t recall setting up. But then, why would she remember it when she still couldn’t remember her divorce?

She’d thought staying here for just a couple of hours would answer at least a fraction of her questions. Now she could see she was wrong.

Chapter 3

“How kind of you to join us, Parker,” Lieutenant Sam Adams drawled from the doorway of his office when Dylan walked past. “I hope we didn’t interfere with anything important.”

“I was interviewing a victim, sir.”

“Really? Did a case come in I hadn’t heard about or were you just driving around looking for one?”

Dylan was used to his superior’s sarcasm. He looked across the room to where his partner, Celeste Dante, sat at her desk. She was engrossed in reading something on her computer monitor. Or at least pretending to be engrossed in the contents. He found no help there.

“Then let me take a wild guess where you were.” Sam wasn’t about to let him get off easily. “Could it have something to do with the Spencer assault?”

“Right,” Dylan cheerfully agreed.

“Wrong. You don’t cover robbery cases.”

“I hate to argue with you, sir, but Dante and I cover Domestic Crime,” Dylan pointed out. “Domestic means local and what happened to Ms. Spencer was clearly a local crime.”

Celeste shook her head and covered her face with her hands.

“Parker, if your ex-wife utters even one word of complaint against you, you are off the case,” Sam added. “Do not even think about stepping on Robbery’s toes.”

Dylan breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Got it.”

“And if the lady shoots you, you know she’ll probably receive a medal for performing a good deed.”

“I’ll keep my Kevlar vest within reach.” Dylan escaped to his desk. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the man was out of earshot. “What got into him?”

Celeste shrugged and leaned across her desk. “I heard Alex thinks the two of you are still married,” Celeste said.

“I informed her otherwise, but her memory still has gaps.” He slumped in his chair. He glanced at his desk. “Where’s my muffin?” When they worked the morning shift, they took turns bringing in muffins for each other. Today was Celeste’s turn. Even after eating a large breakfast, Dylan had been looking forward to having his cinnamon muffin.

“You were late. I was hungry.” She smiled, looking not the least bit apologetic.

“Marriage should have mellowed you,” he muttered, grabbing his coffee cup and heading for the coffeemaker.

“Do you know who caught the case?” he asked Celeste.

Her smile was his first warning that he wouldn’t like what she was about to tell him. “Whitmire.”

Dylan felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. “The Whitmire who lost us the softball league championship last summer?”

Celeste nodded. “Yes, the man who broke your nose when you said he couldn’t catch a ball if it was handed to him on a silver platter.”

Dylan shook his head. “All he had to do was catch the damn ball.” He laid his hand over the telephone. “Maybe I’d be better off talking to his partner.” He paused. “I haven’t offended him lately, have I?”

“You’ll find out when you call him, won’t you?”

“You are an evil woman,” he muttered, punching out the extension. He groaned when he heard a sonorous voice on the other end. “Hey, Whitmire. Dylan Parker. I’m calling about the Spencer mugging.” He picked up a pencil and balanced the point on his fingertip. “Yeah, it’s going to take some time for her to fully recover her memory. I’m calling because the lieutenant said I can help you out on the case.” He tossed the pencil up into the air and caught it, then stabbed the air with it. “Yes, I know it’s your case and no, I’m not looking to push my way in. It’s just that Alex is in a fragile state right now and considering everything, I could— Yeah, I’ll run everything by you first. Thanks.” He practically snarled the last word.

“He’s not going to make it easy for you,” Celeste said.

Dylan stared at his desk. He felt unsettled inside. Itchy. He felt uncomfortable inside his own skin. It had taken him a long time to get past the pain of his divorce. Now he was back with the woman who’d caused him so much heart-ache. And damn, he still had feelings for her. He recalled the good times they’d once shared. Dylan thought of the hours they’d spent in their house talking about the future. He thought of them as opposites that not just attracted, but worked well. Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to last.

The coffee he drank burned like acid through his stomach as he remembered he hadn’t made it any easier when he and Alex were together, hadn’t placed any blame on himself. Deep down, he knew it was just as much his fault as hers because he hadn’t bothered to try to resolve their problems.

The divorce should have been the end of it, but Dylan found himself haunted by the memory of her face, her touch…. He stared at his desk, then shook his head to clear his thoughts and reached for the telephone.

“Hey, Greg, it’s Dylan Parker,” he identified himself to the criminalist. “I’m coming down to see those tapes.”

Dylan discovered watching the security tapes didn’t give him any new information other than the attacker’s height and the realization that he’d attacked her from behind. Sitting there, seeing Alex struck and her falling, hitting her head against her car, sent painful needles through his gut. After learning her car had been towed into the police yard, he decided to drive out to the airport and check out the scene.

The small airport set on the outskirts of town was ideal for small-plane owners and commuters flying into and out of San Francisco. Dylan drove through the long-term parking lot until he reached a section that still displayed pieces of yellow crime-scene tape fluttering in the morning breeze.

“Trust Alex to pick an out-of-the-way spot as a means to protect her precious car,” he commented, pulling into the closest empty parking space. He climbed out and walked around, noting a security officer in a golf cart patrolling the area. The man nodded and moved on when he saw Dylan’s shield hooked to his belt.

Dylan turned in a slow, tight circle to view his surroundings. His imagination turned it from day to early evening. Memory prodded the reminder of the low-lying fog the previous night. He knew the mist had drifted along the ground, obscuring normal vision.

He squatted down and studied the asphalt as if it would give up its secrets. It took him a moment to rein in his emotions. He straightened up and rested his hands on his hips as he studied his surroundings. That cop sense he relied on was working overtime. “It walks like a random mugging. It talks like a random mugging,” he mused. “So why the hell doesn’t it feel like a random mugging?”

Logic told him it was just that, but something deep inside kept saying it was something more personal. Working Domestic Crimes showed him just how personal an attack could be. He knew that there had been other prospective victims in the parking lot that night. So why was Alex chosen?

How am I going to make sense of all of this before me?

Alex couldn’t look at her desk any longer. Janet had spent the past ninety minutes with Alex going over her client list and calendar for the past month. Alex was still reeling from the sheer abundance of information.

She couldn’t believe she carried this heavy a workload and managed to stay sane. When had she had time to sleep, much less maintain a marriage? She remembered keeping a journal, so she should have one that might cast some light on what happened to their relationship. But a part of her was afraid she might read something she wouldn’t like. Alex knew she never backed down from a fight, but she also knew this was different. This was personal.

She was also curious about the obvious hostility Janet had displayed toward Dylan when they arrived at the office, but she didn’t think it was a good idea to question her assistant about it. Alex already had enough to think about.

For now she felt the sudden urge to go home and lock the door behind her. She told herself there was nothing wrong in desiring the safety of her apartment until her memory returned. It might even be best all the way around.

“Are you sure you should be here?” Her assistant looked concerned as she rose to her feet. “I mean, I know you believe work is everything, but this isn’t the same as you coming in to work last winter with the flu and a temperature of a hundred and two. This time you’re suffering from a head injury.”

“I came in sick?” Alex made a face. “I didn’t give you my flu, did I?”

Janet smiled and shook her head as she confided, “I sprayed a lot of Lysol around.”

Alex waved Janet back to her chair. “There are a lot of things that seem familiar to me, but there’s even more that isn’t. I’m afraid I’m going to need you to help me with this obstacle course called my work.”

“You know I’ll do anything I can to help,” Janet vowed.

“Thank you.” Alex felt as if her head was ready to split apart. “Janet, could you see if there’s any herbal tea?” Once her assistant was gone, she got up and headed for the ladies’ room. As she passed several people she smiled and spoke, relieved she remembered names, and judging by their responses, she knew she had put the right names to the right faces. But she couldn’t miss their covert glances at her face. It only made her feel uncomfortable and ready to hide back in her office.

Hoping Dylan would show up, say, in the next five minutes, she felt an increasing sense of suffocation. If she didn’t leave soon, she might end up having a full-blown panic attack. She turned her chair to look out the window and focused on slowing down her racing heartbeat.

“So this is what you do all day? Sit there and look pretty? If I’d known that’s all that was required to be a lawyer on the fast track I would have gone to law school. Then again, probably not. Too much homework.”

Alex spun around in her chair. Her lips started to tilt upward in a bright smile, then froze. If they were divorced, why did she feel this happy to see Dylan?

He stood in the doorway, one shoulder resting against the jamb with his arms crossed in front of his chest. The grin on his face warmed her inside and banished the insecurity she’d been feeling as she faced an office that was both familiar and unknown.

“That’s how I talk judges into ruling in my favor,” she replied, using her feet to send the chair spinning in a slow circle. “Plus, this is a really cool chair. Not only comfy but very functional—my own personal merry-go-round.”

Dylan’s eyebrow lifted. “Really?” He smiled and shook his head as he straightened up and moved forward until he reached the edge of her desk. He spent several moments studying her. “How’s the head?”

“I no longer feel as if someone took a baseball bat to it,” she admitted. “Now it’s more like someone driving an ice pick through my brain.”

“Talk about a gross image.” He tapped his fingers on the desk’s surface. “So you ready to blow this pop stand?”

Alex leaned forward and confided in a stage whisper, “If I say yes, you won’t think I’m weak, will you?”

He grinned at her. “You’re the last person I would ever think of that way.”

Janet walked in, glared at Dylan, then turned to Alex, who was busy stacking files in a leather case she’d found in her bottom desk drawer.

“Are you feeling worse?” She started forward. “Would you like some aspirin?”

“She needs rest,” Dylan stated. “We made a deal. She could come in this morning as long as she was ready to leave when I came by.”

Janet looked unsure, as if she wasn’t certain how to handle a boss who suddenly realized her physical limits.

“Thank you for your help this morning,” Alex said. “Seeing a list of who I saw in San Francisco gave me a start.”

“I can’t imagine any of them would want to hurt you,” Janet pointed out.

“When you don’t like to get your hands dirty, you hire someone to do it for you,” Dylan said, then turned to Alex. “Thought you’d like to know your car has been released, and I picked it up for you earlier. I ran it through the car wash at the gas station on the corner, then had an officer leave it at your place.”

“I can imagine it needed a wash after the fingerprint powder they probably dusted it with,” she said. “But why didn’t you just have someone drop it off here?”

“Because I don’t think you should be driving yet,” Dylan said.

Alex would have liked to argue that she was perfectly able to drive herself, but with her head pounding she knew that wasn’t the case.

“Give me a minute and I’ll be ready to go.” She walked around her desk and left the office for the ladies’ room.

Janet looked at Dylan. “I do not want to be in your shoes when she realizes exactly what you did with her car,” she said in a heated whisper. “She has it detailed once a week.”

“Yeah, I thought it was pretty inspired myself.” He grinned. “I guess you’ve noticed she isn’t exactly acting like herself. I guess I wanted to see if I’d get a reaction.”

“No wonder people get mad at you.” She kept her voice low. “You didn’t hear her last month when she received that order of sushi. She wanted to cut your heart out with a chopstick.”

“Hey, that wasn’t just any old sushi. That was one hundred dollars’ worth of the best sushi in the county,” Dylan said proudly.

“She still wanted to cut your heart out.”

“The judge never specified it had to be paid in cash or by check,” he pointed out.

“Which led you on the quest to pay it in any way guaranteed to tick her off,” Janet said.

“Some months I succeed better than others.”

She took a quick look to make sure Alex hadn’t returned yet. “You know what they say about people who perform such crazy stunts? That person must still have feelings for the other and does those stunts to get attention.”

Dylan reared back in shock. “Whoa, way off the mark, sweetheart.”

She still looked skeptical. “And your reason for coming around here acting more like a solicitous husband than a police detective?” With that, Janet returned to her desk to answer the phone.

Dylan felt a punch to his gut at Janet’s question. What was his reason? The moment he’d heard Alex was hurt he hadn’t hesitated in heading for the hospital. Did this mean those old feelings for her were still there? God help him if that was the case.

Janet looked over at Alex, who had just returned. “Alex, there’s a Detective Whitmire downstairs. He wants to talk to you about the robbery.”

Alex momentarily closed her eyes. She wished Dylan had shown up five minutes earlier. “Have him come up.”

“Wait a minute.” Dylan held one hand up. “Janet, tell him that Ms. Spencer has left for the day, but he can catch her at her home,” he instructed.

Janet looked at Alex, who shook her head. “I’d rather get it over with now,” she told him.

“You’re white as a sheet and your head is pounding,” Dylan said.

“And if you were the investigating detective, you would have politely pushed to see me now while I had those few details still in my mind,” she pointed out.

“True, but I’d also try to cut you some slack. You’ve had a lot to deal with in less than twenty-four hours.”

“Let me tell him what I know, so I can get back to my life,” she said. “If you’d rather, you can wait out in the reception area.” She knew he wouldn’t go for the idea. His making himself comfortable on her couch was proof of that.

Alex settled behind her desk and waited. Within moments, Janet announced the detective’s presence.

Alan Whitmire was built like a brick wall in navy slacks, a white-and-navy striped dress shirt and a navy tie. Alex immediately sensed his personality went along with the conservative clothing. She had no doubt that Detective Whitmire was one of those men who wouldn’t veer from his chosen path no matter how tempting it was. Looking at his unsmiling features, she sensed the stiff-necked detective preferred to deal with cold hard facts, while the more laid-back Dylan coupled evidence with his gut instincts. There was also something about the man that irritated her. She’d be glad when his interview was over.

“Ms. Spencer.” His expression and voice showed no inflection as he offered her his hand. “Thank you for seeing me.” He pointedly ignored Dylan.

Alex smiled. “Of course. I don’t know what I can tell you, though. I didn’t see the person who attacked me.”

“You still might have noticed something,” he insisted as he began questioning her.

Alex was tempted to mention she’d already gone over this with Dylan, but something told her that observation wouldn’t be welcome.

“Is there a chance you’ve had a relationship go bad recently?” Detective Whitmire asked.

Alex frowned. There was that stabbing pain again! “Not that I recall, but then since I’ve forgotten the past two years I wouldn’t remember, would I?” she snapped, finally weary of it all.

The detective nodded. “I’m sorry, but I had to ask. I would also like to pull your cell-phone records for the past two weeks,” he said. “We might be able to find something important from those.”

Dylan leaned back in his chair, looking a little pleased at the cool way she was handling his counterpart.

“Perhaps Janet can help you with the records,” Alex suggested.

“Your assistant isn’t trained in police work,” Detective Whitmire stated.

“But she knows whom I’ve dealt with most recently,” she said smoothly, and breathed a silent sigh of relief when he remained silent as he finally closed his notebook.

“To be honest, Ms. Spencer, the evidence is telling us that you were the unfortunate target of a random mugging,” he said slowly. “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you to cancel your credit cards and change your locks. We’ll do what we can, but this kind of crime, with so little evidence is—”

“Is low priority for you,” she said, choosing to finish his sentence for him.

“No, but it is difficult to solve,” he corrected her. “I am sorry you were injured. Naturally, I—” he glanced at Dylan with a meaningful look “—will contact you if anything comes up. And if you remember anything, please contact me immediately.” He handed her his card.

Alex produced a bland smile. She knew a brush-off when she got one. “Thank you, Detective.”

“Just as I am more than happy to pass on anything I discover.” Dylan spoke up from his lounging position on the couch.

The man stared at Dylan with no emotion on his face. “You were included as a courtesy, Parker. Nothing more.”

“That’s the way Lieutenant Adams put it to me,” Dylan said. The other man’s jaw tightened.

“Thank you again for your time, Ms. Spencer. I’ll be in touch.” Whitmire nodded toward Alex and walked out without looking at Dylan.

Alex turned to Dylan. “He’s not very pleasant.”

He shrugged. “The guy gets a little touchy when things don’t go his way. It’s his anal nature. That’s what happens with fed wannabes.” He straightened up from the couch. “And now we’re outta here.”

Alex nodded and followed him out of the office. “There’s no reason for you to stay if I’m leaving early. Go on home and take some time for yourself,” she told Janet as she passed her desk. “But first thing tomorrow, would you call my cell provider and get a list of the numbers I’ve called for the past two weeks?”

“I’ll get on it,” Janet promised. “Have a good day.”

Alex and Dylan were silent as they rode the elevator downstairs and headed for the large glass double doors. As they passed by the security guard’s desk, she noticed that while Barney smiled at her, he glowered at Dylan. For a man she’d always considered loaded with charm, Dylan had racked up more than his share of enemies—and many of them worked in her building. She quickly amended that thought to include at least one of his co-workers. She was positive Detective Whitmire wasn’t the only one who had a problem with Dylan.

“Why didn’t you want me talking to Detective Whitmire?” she asked as he assisted her into his truck.

“More like you didn’t need to talk to him right then and there,” he replied. “If he got too pushy I would have reminded him you had been grievously injured.”

Alex stared through the windshield. She bit her lip so hard it was a miracle it didn’t bleed. She was afraid if she looked at Dylan she would burst into laughter.

“Grievously injured? Do you honestly know the meaning of the term?”

“Celeste used it once. I always thought it sounded more serious than the usual badly injured.” He turned and grinned at her.

Looking at him, she saw the look that had first attracted her to him. It only intensified her desire to find out just why their relationship fell apart.

“Even with my ‘grievous injury,’ it was better I talk to the detective even if it was an obvious waste of time. It’s apparent he considers the case a dead end,” she said. “Now, are you going to tell me why you disagree with Detective Whitmire’s assessment of the attack?”

Dylan shook his head. “Let’s wait and talk about it while we eat.”

She sat up straighter. “Did you find something out this morning? Something Detective Whitmire isn’t aware of even when you promised him you’d pass on anything you learned?”

“How about we wait until we’ve got food in front of us,” he suggested. He glanced up and adjusted his rearview mirror. “I don’t know about you, but it’s been a long morning for me and I’m hungry. Speaking of morning, how did it go for you?”

“Confusing. Frustrating,” she admitted. “Janet brought up my calendar for the days I spent in San Francisco, but it was as if I was reading someone else’s agenda. Nothing seemed familiar. She said the clients I saw were ones I’ve taken on in the past year, so they weren’t familiar, either.”

He glanced up at the rearview mirror again. “I got knocked on the head with a baseball when I slid into home during a Little League game when I was ten. My first home run, and to this day I don’t remember hitting the ball to begin with.”

“So that’s your excuse for your behavior.”

Dylan reared back slightly. “I can’t believe it! The woman just made a joke!”

“I do have a sense of humor,” Alex defended herself. She was irritated that she was thought not to have one. Once again, she felt as if she was treading in unknown territory. How many times this morning had Janet looked at her oddly because she didn’t say or do something the way Janet was used to her saying or doing it? She wondered just what the blow to her head did to her.

“It’s just changed a little,” Dylan said.

Alex looked out the window. “Would it be all right if we just went back to the condo?” she asked. “I am feeling pretty tired.”

He glanced at her. “Let’s go one step more and have something delivered.”

Alex didn’t miss Dylan’s covert glances in the rearview and side-view mirrors.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Just call it my cop paranoia kicking in. Nothing to worry about.” Ten minutes later, he pulled into the complex parking lot. She noticed he glanced again in the mirror. Something had obviously caught his attention, but he didn’t appear inclined to share it with her.

Alex stared at the covered parking space with her apartment number stenciled above it. The sleek navy-blue Jaguar parked between the white painted lines didn’t ring a bell of familiarity inside her head.

A bubble of hysteria threatened to break free. I don’t remember my divorce, I don’t remember my condo and I don’t remember my car.

Dylan jumped out of the truck the moment he parked it and walked around to the passenger side. He crouched down by the open door and studied her face. She knew he would see what she had. Scrapes, cuts and bruises and a colorful black eye were revealed even more now that her makeup had started to wear off. She felt as droopy as over-cooked spaghetti and wanted nothing more than to feel his arms around her so she could curl up in his embrace.

His fingertips lightly traced the bruising around her eye. “Promise me you’ll get some rest after you eat.”

“You’re the one who sounds hungry,” she pointed out.

“All Celeste had in her desk were those healthy nutrition bars. All they’re good for is to make missiles. I told her she needs to carry more real food in her desk, but she still stocks it with junk like that.”

“Maybe she’s sending you a message.”

“To eat healthy?”

“To stop stealing food from her desk,” she said as she took his hand and hopped out of the truck.

“I had your door locks replaced with a keyless entry system.” He pulled a set of codes out of his pocket and handed them to her. “You can use the keypad. You also need to change the code on your alarm system. Using your birth date was too obvious, anyway. Did you make sure to cancel your credit cards?”

Alex nodded. “Janet took care of canceling them for me. She had all the pertinent information on file.”

“Janet was always very organized.” He walked beside her as they headed for the stairs.

Alex looked at her surroundings. The two-story building was fairly new with immaculate grounds. She could see a swimming pool off to one side and beyond that a tall mesh fence that enclosed four tennis courts.

Why couldn’t she remember moving in here?

Several residents were getting out of their respective cars and crossing the parking lot. None of them looked familiar to her.

She couldn’t believe she didn’t recognize one face. If she and Dylan had been divorced for the past two years, she must have made at least a few friends here. Maybe they could tell her something. The thought died as quickly as it was born. Now that she thought about it, she felt a sense of estrangement, and knew it meant that she kept to herself.

“You’ll feel better once you get something to eat,” Dylan assured her as they walked into the apartment. He flipped open his cell phone and punched a number. “Any preference?” He walked over to the front window and looked out.

“Anything but Thai. I’m going to change my clothes.”

Alex escaped to her bedroom where she blindly pulled clothing out of drawers and went into the bathroom. She braced her hands on the counter and looked closely into the mirror.

The skin around her eye had turned an even deeper purple than it was that morning and her hair had parted to reveal the black threads tracking her scalp. Her cut lip looked even worse, and the hint of blusher she’d used that morning now looked clownish against her too-pale skin.

She leaned in closer until her nose almost touched the reflective glass.

“Who am I?” she whispered. “What is happening to me?”

She couldn’t imagine ever feeling as lost as she did then. She picked up a washcloth and wet it, then slowly wiped her face clean. She had finished changing her clothes when she heard the doorbell, then the murmur of voices before the door closed.

“Food’s here!” Dylan called out fifteen minutes later.

When Alex walked into the kitchen, the rich, spicy aroma sent her taste buds tingling. She stared with disbelief at the amount of food Dylan was laying out on the table.

“Exactly how many people did you plan to feed?” she asked, pulling two cans of Diet Coke out of the refrigerator, then taking glasses out of the cabinet. She nimbly stepped around Clarence, who wove his way around her ankles.

“All of this makes good leftovers. I got a little of everything,” Dylan explained as he pulled out a large stack of napkins. “Barbecued baby back ribs, shredded barbecued beef for sandwiches, onion rings, coleslaw and baked beans.”

“There is enough food for a week.” She stared at the amount he set on her plate.

“Only if you take one bite a day. Besides, you need to start eating real food instead of yogurt and granola bars,” he told her as he piled spicy beef slices on a crusty French roll.

Alex picked up an onion ring and bit into it. The pungent flavor seemed to flood her senses, as if she hadn’t eaten in days. She took a second bite, then forked up some of the barbecued beef. The spicy meat urged her to try the coleslaw next. She finished about half the food on her plate before she started to slow down. She set her fork on the plate and turned to Dylan. For a moment, she drank in his presence. His sheer energy seemed to add color to the sterile surroundings of her kitchen. He must have felt her regard because he looked up and shot his eyebrows up in a silent question.

“You promised once we were eating that you’d tell me why you disagree with Detective Whitmire’s assessment of the case,” she reminded him now that she had her breath back. If they were divorced, why did she feel this incredible pull from him?

Dylan grimaced and snuck a bit of meat under the table to Clarence. “I viewed the security tapes from the parking lot. It was clear the suspect headed directly toward you.” He paused. The memory of what he’d watched on the tape burned deep inside him. If the man had struck a little harder or in a different spot, there was an excellent chance Alex wouldn’t be sitting there right now. “This was a man who appeared to be completely focused on you and he didn’t seem to care if he might be seen. A sneak thief is pretty much a coward. He prefers to snatch a purse and run like hell. There was another woman who was a much easier mark than you. She was walking in between the light poles, she had her purse hanging loosely from her shoulder and she was much closer to him. He had to work his way around her to get to you. So what we have now is an estimation of his height, his build, and we know he climbed over the back fence to get away. He wore a ski mask so we weren’t able to see his face. It may not seem like much, but it’s a beginning, and we could learn more when we find your luggage and briefcase.”

Alex considered his words. “Which is why you think the attack on me was deliberate,” she said slowly. “But why me?”

He shrugged. “That’s what we don’t know and what I intend to find out. I also went out to the airport, because I wanted an up-close-and-personal look at where you parked. I’ve got to say they’ve got great security out there, but naturally, they can’t see everything and be everywhere at once.”

“Hence the cameras,” she added.

Dylan nodded. “Cameras are set up in such a way that they cover the parking lot, and because the lot was expanded a year ago, they added on extra guards at night. Women who feel uncomfortable walking to their cars after dark can ask a guard to accompany them to their vehicle.”

“But I obviously didn’t do that,” Alex said.

“You probably felt safe since your car was parked under a light and there were several people going in the same direction,” he said. “But by your parking at the edge of the lot, the thief was able to easily jump the fence and get away.”

She looked down at the tabletop, mulling it all over in her mind. Dylan felt as if he could hear the gears working inside her head. He’d always admired her mind as it sifted through mounds of material and figured things out. When she looked up, her next words were no surprise to him. “I want to help.”

Dylan didn’t hesitate in shooting back a firm “no way.”

“Yes. Dylan, you have a strong hunch that this attack on me was calculated,” she argued. “Someone deliberately hurt me.” She drew a deep, fortifying breath. “If someone hadn’t seen him he could have killed me. This is my life—if I’m in danger, I want to be involved in figuring this out, too.”

Dylan slumped back in his chair. He regarded her set expression with a sense of resignation. He knew that look well. He could argue until he was blue in the face, but there was no way Alex was going to back down once she set her mind to something.

“Even with the lieutenant’s approval for my participation in this investigation, I’m still walking a fine line with Whitmire. You saw how he acted in your office.”

“I can intervene on your behalf with Whitmire if he tries to freeze you out,” she told him. “We both know he’d rather close out the case. If I make enough noise he won’t be able to do that.”

“If the evidence isn’t strong enough to prove this was a premeditated attack, he can close the case if his superior feels they’re at a dead end,” Dylan argued back.

She shook her head. If there was something Alex the attorney did well, it was argue—and win. “And if they try that I will make their lives a living hell. The man who attacked me didn’t just steal objects from me, he stole a part of my life,” she stated in a low tone that fairly throbbed with anger. “He stole something from me that is more important than my briefcase and suitcase. He robbed me of many of my memories. Memories I may never recover. I want more than the opportunity to face him as his accuser. I want to be a part of tracking him down. I want him to know I was a part of the team that ferreted him out.” She spoke each word slowly and deliberately. “I want his blood,” she said fiercely.

Dylan chuckled. He silently admitted he’d pay good money to see Alex go up against Whitmire.

“Now this is the Alex I know,” he murmured.

She sat up straighter. For a second he could swear a hint of pain crossed her face. Not physical, but emotional.

“You keep saying I was a different person before the attack. And it sounds as if I wasn’t a nice person,” she murmured. She set down her fork and picked up her napkin from her lap, carefully folding it as if it were made of fine linen instead of paper.

Dylan’s appetite deserted him as he realized he’d hurt Alex’s feelings. Memories of similar meals with similar words swamped him. How many times had sharp words turned cutting? How many times had they both used words that could never be forgotten?

“I don’t like feeling as if I’m in the dark so much,” she said slowly. “I want to know exactly what happened between us. Why we parted ways.” She looked up. “I want to know everything, Dylan. I need to know.” A soft plea of desperation coated her words.

He winced. He didn’t think she would want to know everything. It didn’t cast either of them in a good light.

“I’m sure you have a copy of the paperwork, depositions and court records,” he said. “Anything I tell you would be tainted because it would only be from my perspective. You wouldn’t know how you felt then. Hearing it that way wouldn’t be fair to you, Alex.”

“But reading paperwork would be seeing dry facts without any emotion written into them,” she pointed out. “A case of ‘he said, she said.’” She blinked rapidly to keep tears from falling.

For once Dylan’s quick wit decided to take an unscheduled vacation. He knew he could lie with the best of them, but he could never lie to Alex no matter what had happened between them.

He opened his mouth to spin a tale he hoped she would believe when a woman’s scream rang through the air.

Dylan tossed his napkin down and ran for the door. His weapon appeared in his hand as he glanced over his shoulder at Alex.

“Lock the door after me,” he ordered. “Don’t let anyone in but me. And if you hear gunshots, call 911. Tell them gunshots were fired and there’s an officer on the scene who needs backup.”

“Shouldn’t we call them now?” she asked, looking pale and wide-eyed as she snatched up the phone.

Dylan grinned. “This is what I do, sweetheart.” He unlocked the dead bolt and slipped out the door. “Lock the door behind me and stay away from the front window.”

Alex kept the phone in her hand as she ran after Dylan. She skirted the living room and kept away from the front window as she made her way to the door. She intended to follow his orders and secure the dead bolt. But first she planned to find out what was going on outside.

Chapter 4

Dylan followed the sounds of a woman’s mewling cries for help as he raced down the stairs to the ground floor and along the walkway. His gut constricted as he heard the sounds grow weaker even as he grew closer to his goal.

“Get back inside!” he ordered a man who started to step out of his front door to see what was going on. The man took in Dylan’s grim expression, the gun seated comfortably in his hand and the official gold shield hooked to his belt. He didn’t hesitate to back up and close his door. The audible snick of a dead bolt sounded next. By then Dylan had slowed down to stealthily approach an open door where he could see a pair of legs encased in red pants draped over the doorway.

“Oh, no!”

Dylan glanced over his shoulder. “I told you to stay put,” he growled.

Alex held up her phone. “I can’t call 911 without knowing what’s going on,” she pointed out, angling her body to look past him.

“You won’t be able to get a signal on that phone this far away from the base unit.” He pulled his cell phone off his belt clip and tossed it to her. “Use this and stay here until I make sure everything’s okay,” he ordered, moving forward quickly but with an equal amount of caution. When he reached the fallen woman, he crouched down beside her but kept his gaze moving back and forth in the dim interior, alert for any signs of movement. “We’re going to get you help,” he murmured to the elderly woman, placing a hand on her arm. He mentally winced as he felt the chill of her skin and recognized the signs of shock. “Is there anyone else in the apartment?” he asked the woman.

The woman’s mouth opened and closed, but no words were spoken. She looked panicked when her gaze settled on the gun in his hand. She was paralyzed with fear.

“Don’t worry, I’m one of the good guys.” He smiled to reassure her.

“Ran away,” she gasped.

Dylan looked over his shoulder. “Call for an ambulance and report a break-in,” he told Alex. “Stay with her and do not move from this spot.”

Alex immediately dropped down by the woman while Dylan made a thorough tour of the apartment. He idly noted it was identical to Alex’s with one less bedroom, and the rooms were filled with dark antique furniture and plenty of fussy knickknacks. The contents of the coat closet had been tossed to the floor and the bedroom had also been searched pretty well. He hazarded a guess this was a professional job yet he knew pros weren’t known to be messy. He figured they’d been in a hurry or interrupted by the woman’s arrival. When he returned to the door, he found Alex seated on the floor cradling the woman’s head in her lap. She talked to the woman in a soft voice, assuring her help was coming even though the woman was now unconscious. She looked up with an unspoken question in her eyes. He shook his head silently, telling her he couldn’t find anything to identify what had happened.

She took a deep breath. A faint sheen of tears appeared in her emerald eyes. “No one was trying to rob her apartment, were they? Whoever was in here was looking for me. I live directly above her, so they made a mistake.”

Dylan hunkered down next to her. “We don’t know that,” he lied. But he didn’t believe in coincidence. A random break-in in Alex’s building, so close to her own unit, raised warning flags in his mind. He straightened up when the strident sound of sirens sounded in the parking lot. “I’ll guide them over here,” he said quietly before moving off.

Alex carefully moved her legs to a more comfortable position. “They’re coming now. They’ll take good care of you,” she assured the woman. She wished she knew her name, but even if she did have all her memory she might not have known it to begin with.

“Ma’am, we need to get in there.” A paramedic appeared by her side.

She looked up, slowly nodded and stood up. “She said she has a heart condition.” She was surprised to find her voice was trembling. She backed up and watched the paramedics quickly examine the woman, then gently place her on the gurney. One of them turned to her.

“Do you happen to know her doctor’s name or her next of kin?”

She shook her head. She glanced over and saw a black leather purse lying on its side and picked it up.

“Go ahead and check for an insurance card,” Dylan said, coming up. “Hey, Cooper,” he said, greeting one of the paramedics.

The paramedic inclined his head. “We need to get her in right away, her BP’s way low.”

“Her name is Mildred Bridger, she’s seventy-two years old and her doctor is Gerald Collins,” Alex announced, after finding the woman’s insurance card.

The paramedic named Cooper nodded. “We’ll have someone at the hospital contact him.” They wheeled the gurney out to the parking lot.

Alex stared at the two uniformed officers speaking to the residents spilling out of their apartments. She couldn’t imagine ever feeling so helpless—she had the sense she was usually in control. But now…

“Alex, did she say anything to you at all?” Dylan asked. “Did she say if she got a look at who attacked her?”

She started to shake her head, then reconsidered. “She was having a lot of trouble breathing. She only said that she had been to the hairdresser, and when she walked in two men were coming out of her bedroom. She screamed and one of them ran at her and pushed her to the floor.” She blinked rapidly. “She’s so frail, Dylan. She looks as if her bones would break if you just held on to her too tightly.” She gulped. “What if—”

“Hey, don’t think that way.” He wrapped his arms around her, warming her chilled heart with his embrace. “They’ll take good care of her at the ER. I’ll have someone talk to the people in the complex office to see if they have any contact numbers for her.” He glanced toward one of the uniformed officers and jerked his head in his direction. “You want to go over to the office and see if there’s any additional contact information for the victim?” he asked. “I’ll be up in 2C if you need me.”

Alex stood a short distance away and scanned the scattering of people clustered in front of the building, obviously drawn out by the excitement. She cupped her elbows with her hands as if she were cold. Not one person looked familiar to her, and no one approached her to chat about the incident. There wasn’t one sign of recognition among them. Hadn’t she made any friends while living here? Didn’t she know any of her neighbors by name, or stop to chat while picking up her mail or while using any of the park’s facilities? Or was she so busy at her office she never bothered with anything resembling a life?

Another, darker thought came to her. What if Mrs. Bridger’s attackers were still here? What if whoever had broken into the condo down here was mingling with the residents with the intention of blending in? If she didn’t recognize anyone out there, how would she know if she was looking at resident or foe?

“Come on,” Dylan said gently, directing her back toward the stairs. They slowly ascended, walking side by side.

“What happened to her is my fault,” Alex said as they walked inside.

“No, it isn’t, Alex,” he told her. “You didn’t tell anyone to break into her place and frighten her so badly. Things happen that you can’t control no matter how hard you try.”

She uttered a laugh that was as brittle as glass. “Control,” she repeated. “What a wonderful word that is. Do you know what it means?” She didn’t bother waiting for a reply. “It means the authority or ability to manage or direct. It means you are the one directing your life. Except right now I don’t have the authority to direct my life, do I?” Her voice rose in pitch. “I am at everyone else’s whim but not my own.” She breathed in deeply through her nose in an attempt to bring down the sense of hysteria swiftly rising up inside her. Even if she couldn’t control her life, she was determined to control her emotions.

Dylan stayed back as if he knew she didn’t want him near her. “We’re going to get these guys, Alex,” he said quietly. “I promise you that.”

She shook her head as she walked into the kitchen. “Do me a favor and don’t make any promises you might not be able to keep.” She looked down at her cat, who was obviously debating whether or not he wanted to gorge himself on more kitty kibble, but hadn’t followed through yet.

The cat yowled a protest and waved a paw. Grateful for the sense of normalcy, Alex opened a cabinet door and pulled out a packet of the cat’s favorite food and dumped it in a bowl. She placed the bowl on the floor, then began closing up the take-out containers and depositing them in the refrigerator. She froze when the doorbell chimed.

“It’s for me,” Dylan called out, letting in his fellow officers.

Alex wiped down the table and counters while keeping her ears pricked for any hint of conversation, but they spoke too softly for her to hear more than a word here and there. When Dylan walked into the kitchen there was a grim expression on his face. He turned one of the kitchen chairs around and sat down, resting his arms across the back.

“Do you recall anything before you moved into this unit?”

She shook her head. “Nothing, really. Why?”

He appeared lost in thought for a moment before turning back to her. “The condo manager told us that Mrs. Bridger moved into her unit five months ago. You lived down there until six months ago when this two-bedroom was put up for sale. You wasted no time putting in a bid and selling your own.”

Alex felt the air leave her lungs in a cold rush. It suddenly became difficult to breathe, while brightly colored spots danced before her eyes.

Alex blindly reached out for something to grab on to before her legs gave out on her. She was vaguely aware of two hands firmly but gently guiding her to a nearby chair, then just as gently pushing her head down until her forehead rested against her knees.

“This wasn’t just some random burglary,” she whispered, as if afraid she might be overheard. “Whoever broke into that unit thought they were in mine. Oh, my God, Dylan, if she’s had a heart attack, it’s my fault.” Her voice was high-pitched enough to shatter glass.

His hand was warm and comforting against the back of her neck. “You can’t look at it that way, Alex,” he argued gently.

“But you are, aren’t you?” Her words were muffled against her knees.

“I don’t think anything is your fault, but I’m a cop, so it’s natural for me to be suspicious. Apparently there have been a few break-ins in the area in the past six months. The manager thinks kids are breaking into houses and apartments and stealing whatever they can to fund their less-than-desirable hobbies. So we’ll look at both sides.”

Alex continued to breathe deeply through her nose and detected the faintest hint of a woodsy scent coupled with the warmer musk of male skin. She remembered when she used to fall asleep with her cheek nestled in the hollow of Dylan’s shoulder, his unique scent teasing her dreams. She wanted to leave this nightmare and return to a happier time. The need to escape grew so strong she felt she had to get away from him. She pushed herself off the chair and headed for the living room. When she sat in a corner of the couch, Clarence jumped up onto her lap and curled up against her. His purring was instant comfort to her battered nerves.

Dylan started to sit next to her, then veered off course and chose a nearby chair instead.

“I wouldn’t necessarily say they were looking for you, but for an object,” he said. “The coat closet had been ransacked and the contents of drawers and the closet in her bedroom were thrown around, but the jewelry left on the dresser was untouched. That alone says they didn’t find what they were looking for in your luggage or briefcase. With luck, we’ll find them dumped somewhere.”

“Fine, they’re looking for something, but I have no idea what. What do I have that’s so important they’d risk breaking in when it was still daylight?” Alex asked even though she knew Dylan wouldn’t have an answer for her. After all, she didn’t have an answer for herself. What was so important she was attacked for it?

Dylan stared at her with unsettling gray eyes. “That’s what I need you to tell me.”

She laughed without the least bit of humor. “Exactly what memory do you want me to tell you, Dylan? That I know where I hid something I don’t even remember having? That I live in a condo I don’t remember purchasing? That I’m looking at a man I don’t remember divorcing?”

Dylan settled back in his chair. “Calm down, Alex. Let’s get back to what happened at the airport. Your suitcase and briefcase were taken, which means our perps thought this mysterious item was in one of them. Clearly they were wrong. Any idea at all what it could be?”

“Believe me, I wish I knew. Do you know what I did today? I looked up selective amnesia on the Internet.”

“And?”

“And what I read was pretty much what the doctor said last night. There’s no time frame for how long it lasts and sometimes lost memories never return. And there’s no way you can force them to return. You can only hope for the best.” Her fingers stroked a spot behind Clarence’s ear, increasing his purring. The cat turned his head, looking irritated when she suddenly stopped. “They’ll find fingerprints in the condo.”

“If we’re lucky, we will. Pros can search the place without you even knowing they’d been in there, and they would have worn gloves. I think these guys were in a hurry, which is why there’s such a mess in there. I’ll be notified if any fingerprints or other evidence is found.”

“Can you find out about that woman, Mrs. Bridger?” she asked, feeling guilt that she was the cause for the older woman’s pain.

Dylan nodded. “I’ll see what I can find out. One of the officers accompanied her to the hospital in case she comes to and can give us any additional information.”

Alex glanced at the clock. She was stunned to see it had only been a couple of hours since everything had erupted downstairs. She felt exhausted, as if it had been much longer than that.

How could so much turmoil happen in less than twenty-four hours? She only had to look at her surroundings to realize she lived an orderly life. Nothing was out of place. She wondered why she kept the cat.

“Was there a reason why I was the one to take Clarence?” She enjoyed the solace the cat’s warmth offered her.

Dylan looked uncomfortable by her sudden segue. “I don’t keep a regular schedule, so we decided that it would be better if Clarence stayed with you.”

Why did she feel as if there was more to the story than the few words he’d just related? Alex knew her memory was faulty right now, but she didn’t doubt her intuition. She knew Dylan was holding something important back.

She thought back to the morning the cat chose them as his human caretakers, marveling that she could recall everything except the last two years of her life. “He had that funny little wiggle walk when he was a kitten,” she mused. “And such a whimsical expression on his face.”

“That’s why you said he should be named Clarence, after the angel in It’s a Wonderful Life.” A hint of pain crossed his face as he appeared to be lost in the past.

She silently questioned his expression and what it might mean. Was she the reason for that remembered pain? “That’s right. We saw the movie at that funky old movie house the night before. It played Christmas movies all that week.”

Dylan nodded. She couldn’t miss his expression. She swore he looked as if he would rather discuss anything but their time together as man and wife. She already knew he wasn’t about to discuss the end of their marriage, either.

She wanted to ask him where they went wrong, but she held back. With a woman’s life perhaps hanging in the balance, she didn’t feel the timing was right to talk about their personal lives.

“Could you call the hospital and see if they’ll tell you anything?” she asked again.

Dylan’s expression softened. “Sure.” He pushed himself out of his chair and walked into the kitchen.

Alex heard him greet someone by name before he lowered his voice so she couldn’t hear anything. She watched her fingers slowly sweep across the top of the cat’s head. She found the motion soothing but sensed this wasn’t something she did on a regular basis.

“Did we sit here a lot in the evenings?” she whispered to the cat even if she knew she wouldn’t receive an answer.

Dylan returned to the room, clearly bearing bad news.

“She’s in surgery,” he explained. “I also learned that one of the neighbors saw two men running from the building around the time Mrs. Bridger’s screams were first heard. The neighbor is talking to a sketch artist. When the sketch is finished I want you to look at it and see if the two men look familiar to you.”

“Won’t the amnesia make it difficult for me to recognize them even if I did allegedly know them?” she asked. “I don’t recognize any of my neighbors.”

“Maybe because you weren’t known to have anything to do with them,” he muttered. “You pretty much stayed to yourself.”

Alex leaned forward, almost upsetting the cat from her lap. Clarence uttered a feline snort of disgust and stalked over to the other end of the couch. “What do you mean I didn’t have anything to do with them? I live here. I would think I would have spoken to at least one person living here.” A sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.

From the way Dylan looked her square in the face she already knew the answer.

“Janet said I worked a lot of hours in the office,” she murmured. “I’m amazed the cat even recognized me.” She felt that sick feeling intensify. “I have something to do.” She slowly rose to her feet and headed down the hallway.

“It will get easier, Alex.” Dylan’s soft voice followed. “I realize you’re feeling confused now, but before you know it things will start to fall in to place.”

For a moment, she seriously thought about not responding. Except something inside her advised her not to ignore his well-meaning, but in her eyes, ridiculous, advice. She slowly turned around.

“No, Dylan, you cannot realize even a fraction of how I feel,” she said softly. “I may as well have been dropped onto another planet because I’m thrust into a world I don’t feel comfortable in.” She glanced at her surroundings and swallowed the lump that threatened to suffocate her.

Dylan leaned forward in his seat, resting his laced fingers on his knees. “If I could give you your life back, Alex, I would,” he said quietly. “You were happy with what you had before.”

I was happy without you in my life?

The idea jolted her. Was Dylan happier on his own? She blinked rapidly to stop the threatening tears. Something else she didn’t feel familiar with. She was experiencing too much emotional overload.

“I’m very tired. I’m going to take a bath and read in bed,” she finally managed to say in what sounded like a normal voice. “I need to be alone.”

“I’ll be out here if you need anything.”

She nodded jerkily and turned around. She walked down the hallway to her bedroom. Every step of the way she hoped Dylan would follow her, wrap his arms around her and assure her everything would be all right. But that wasn’t going to happen. They were divorced and now led separate lives.

She passed by the open doorway that revealed her home office. She paused, then ducked inside.

Just as with the other rooms, there wasn’t the slightest hint of clutter.

“Everything in its place,” she murmured, opening the notebook computer on the desk, then deciding this wasn’t the time to peruse the files. Instead, she began opening the drawers of the four-drawer cabinet set against a far wall. In the bottom drawer, she found a folder labeled Divorce Paperwork. She didn’t hesitate as she pulled out a file that turned out to be larger, and heavier, than she expected. She quickly glanced through the papers. “Irreconcilable differences. That says a lot.” At the back she found a burgundy-colored, leather-bound journal and pulled it out. The rest of the file she put back in the drawer and quietly closed it. She left the office and shut herself up in the bathroom with the journal lying on the counter as she readied herself for a bath.

She fancied the book mocking her as she studied her collection of scented bath crystals, bath oils and body washes, and it lured her as she slid down into the water. But for now, she closed her eyes against temptation and allowed the heat of the water to permeate muscles she hadn’t realized were tense until now.

I should have left it in the drawer. I’m not mentally, or emotionally, ready to do this now.

Alex’s hands tightened into fists under the water’s surface. The tension she’d felt leaving her body was returning in waves. She opened her eyes and turned her head to the side so she could see the object that was taunting her.

Would the answers she sought be found in that book or was it wishful thinking on her part? Did she think that looking in there meant she would find what she needed and her memory would miraculously return? Would it explain why Dylan acted so distant toward her or why she felt so very alone that didn’t have anything to do with her injuries? Her movements were slow and deliberate as she pulled a towel off the rack overhead and rolled it up, settling it behind her neck. She closed her eyes again, slowly breathed in and out and forced her body to relax.

The journal would still be there when she finished with her bath. And by then she might be prepared to read the contents.

Might.

After her bath, Alex walked out to the living room.

“Do you have everything you need?” she asked Dylan, who was seated on the couch with Clarence, the fickle feline, stretched out beside him. A football game played on her flat-screen television, providing background noise. His cell phone lay on the coffee table in front of him along with a can of Diet Coke. Her fingers itched to slide a coaster under the can.

“I will if the Chargers win,” he said. His gaze sharpened as he took in her tousled hair and the yellow robe wrapped around her. “How about you? Are you okay?”

Alex shrugged. “I’ve been better,” she said honestly. “I thought I’d pour myself a glass of wine and go to bed.”

Dylan glanced at the small ornamental clock set on a nearby table. “One, not a good idea with pain meds. Two, it’s not even eight o’clock. Normally, the sandman doesn’t come for you until midnight or so.”

She shifted from one bare foot to the other. “First of all, I haven’t taken any since much earlier today. As for everything else, I have not had a normal twenty-four hours, so going to bed now seems like a really good idea.” She forced a smile to her lips. She noticed his gaze softening and a hint of puzzlement in his expression. “I know, I know, once again, this isn’t me. But what is me?” Her voice quavered.

Dylan reached for the remote control and switched off the TV.

“Your football game,” she protested.

“I can read the final scores in the morning paper.” He pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll get you some wine. You sit down here and we’ll talk.” He headed for the kitchen.

“I don’t want to talk about what I do and don’t remember,” she called after him. “I feel as if I’m nothing more than a case number.”

“Fine by me.” The sounds of cabinet doors opening and closing could be heard, then the refrigerator door opening.

Alex settled herself in a corner of the couch, pulling her legs up and draping her robe around her chilly feet. She wished she’d thought to put on slippers to keep them warm. On second thought, she should have thought to put a nightgown on under her robe. Maybe Dylan didn’t feel anything for her, but she was running on emotions that were two years old and she felt a stirring deep inside her that wasn’t easy to deny. She rested her forehead on her drawn-up knees, then lifted her head when something gentle bumped her elbow. Dylan held out a wineglass. She took it and forced herself to take a small sip. She really wanted to gulp it all down.

“Is Celeste helping you with my case?” she asked in an attempt to make casual conversation.

He took the other end of the couch and rested with his back against the side so he could face her. He had picked up his can of Coke and rolled the can between his palms. He shook his head.

“Nope, it’s just me.”

“I was always jealous of her.” Her confession slipped past her lips before she could call it back.

Dylan looked surprised. “Of Celeste? Why? She’s my partner. Thinking of her in any other way would be, well, almost incestuous. Plus I don’t have anything to do with married women.”

“Married?” She blinked in shock. “Celeste is married?”

“For about eight months now.” He paused to sip his Coke. “She’s married to Luc Dante.”

“The owner of Dante’s Café?” She felt off balance again. What had happened in the past two years? She might as well have been stranded on a deserted island.

“We investigated a series of rapes a year ago, and the perpetrator turned out to be one of Luc’s partners,” he replied. “Celeste now spends her off hours helping out as a bartender.”

Alex uttered a short laugh as she processed information new to her.

Dylan leaned forward. “You said you were jealous of her,” he said slowly. “Did you think Celeste and I had an affair? Is that why you shut me out?”

“No,” she protested, while silently wondering exactly what the trouble between them had been. She thought about asking, but after his refusing to tell her before she doubted he would now. “I guess I was jealous of the closeness you two shared. You could finish each other’s sentences. Sometimes it was as if you read each other’s minds.”

“Partners are like that,” he said. “We need to be in sync if we’re going to be effective. But like I said before, I wouldn’t dream of any kind of intimate relationship with Celeste. All my intimate thoughts were centered on you,” he murmured.

Alex took another sip of her wine to cool down the heat that had settled low in her body. She remembered times when Dylan only had to say a few words and the need for them to be alone was so strong they’d left parties. She could tell by the darkening of his eyes he felt it, too.

“I wish—” she started, then stopped. Dylan cocked an eyebrow, silently indicating she continue with her statement. “I’m sorry things changed.” Now she wished she hadn’t begun this conversation. She had lost too many memories due to the blow to her head. “Is there anything else I may have forgotten in the past two years?” she asked, still resisting the urge to gulp her wine.

He reached over and took the glass out of her hand. “No reason to chug the good stuff,” he said, setting the glass on the coffee table. “Stryker got married not long ago.”

Alex wrapped her arms around her knees. “Jared Stryker got married? The man who claimed there isn’t a woman alive who could put up with him?”

Dylan chuckled. “Yeah, I reminded him of that not long after he and Rachel got married. He laughed as if he’d just heard the funniest joke of all time. Funny thing about it was that he had kept her such a deep, dark secret we didn’t even know he was seeing anyone.”

Alex shook her head in bemusement. “No wonder you didn’t want to tell me anything.” She shot him a sly look. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind discussing our divorce now.”

He picked up her wineglass and handed it to her. “Nice try, Princess. I’ll give you the basics of anything but that.”

“But that’s a part of what I need to know,” she argued. She might have forgotten some important things, including their divorce, but she didn’t forget what the implacable look in his eyes meant. She knew from past experience, at least the past she remembered, that when he said he wasn’t going to discuss something, he meant exactly that.

“As far as I’m concerned it was bad enough that first night I told you we were divorced.” He shook his head in disgust. “By my telling you things you don’t remember I might be giving you false memories that you’ll rely on without working them out on your own.”

She thought of the journal that now resided on her bedside table and chose not to mention her newfound possession. Dylan might decide confiscation was in order. She glanced at her wineglass. It was almost empty.

“May I have more, please?” She held up the glass.

Dylan nodded and took her glass. When he returned it to her she noticed it wasn’t as full as before.

“I would think the bottle would have yielded more than barely two glasses,” she commented, holding her glass up to eye level, then turning to Dylan with a considering gaze.

“You still need to be careful.” The couch cushions shifted as he sat back down.

“Afraid if I have too much wine I’ll forget something else?” Her voice had a definite bite to it, but there was the faintest of quavers along the edge, as if she was having trouble holding in her emotions. She glared at him. “What now? Am I not allowed to have a hissy fit?”

Dylan’s lips lifted at the corners. “Hissy fit? Now, that would be something to see.”

Enraged, Alex jumped to her feet and slammed her glass so hard on the coffee table a crack appeared along the stem. With lightning reflexes, Dylan reached forward and grabbed the glass by the bowl before it broke entirely. She didn’t bother saying a word as she walked around the corner of the couch and headed for the back of the apartment. A moment later, her bedroom door slammed so hard Dylan was surprised the wood didn’t crack as easily as her glass.

“That went well,” he murmured, standing up and walking into the kitchen to dispose of the wine and cracked glass. His mind whirled as he took care of domestic chores and returned to the living room. He turned the television back on, but the football game didn’t hold his interest. Not after the show Alex had just put on. The woman just had about as close to a full-blown tantrum as someone could have. She also looked scared to death.

Dylan was seeing a side of his ex-wife he’d never seen before. Alex had always been in control. To see her frightened and confused was new to him. And he knew it was just as new to her. It didn’t help that it seemed every ten minutes they were ending up with more questions before they could get the first batch answered.

What happened with our marriage? Where did we go wrong? Was that his voice speaking inside his head or hers? It had taken Dylan a long time to work through the pain of the divorce and put it all behind him. If his temper hadn’t gotten the best of him in divorce court, he knew Alex would have done away with the token alimony. But no, he had to open his big mouth, tick off the judge and Alex. He’d taken his revenge by concocting the most annoying ways to make the payments. After all, there was nothing in writing to state he had to make them by check or cash. At first, he reveled in creating the most outrageous and obnoxious payments he could come up with. There were times he called himself a genius.

Now he’d probably call himself an idiot with the mind of a pubescent boy looking for anything that would create a reaction. He knew what had caused the change inside him. It had started with Celeste’s marriage to Luc. He saw her enjoying marital bliss and recalled the early days when he and Alex had been in love. Then, surprise of all surprises, Jared Stryker had up and married a mystery woman no one knew anything about.

Until now, Dylan had preferred to think about his marriage as little as possible. But the attack on Alex changed all that. Now he not only thought about it but tried to think about what went wrong, on what he’d done to drive her away. Just as a marriage took two, so did a divorce. He knew if he had truly loved her he should have fought harder to keep her.

So why was he full of regret?

Alex glanced at the journal as she exchanged her robe for a nightgown. Once she was settled in bed with the covers carefully arranged around her, she reached over for the book and opened it, glancing at the contents written in her handwriting. She noticed a loose sheet of paper tucked in the back of the book and pulled it out. It was dated almost two years before.

I know Dylan doesn’t understand the divorce, but I had to do it. It was a mistake to marry him when I needed to concentrate fully on my career. I thought I was in love, but was I really or was it nothing more than overworked hormones? My mother once told me I was overemotional at times. That I wouldn’t get ahead unless I put my emotions on hold and got ahead with business. I realized what was happening the day I was willing to take a day off from work to go to the beach with Dylan. My parents never took a day off from work, didn’t believe in veering from their chosen path. What they got out of it was a thriving law practice and…and…and a daughter who never knew her parents because they were never there when their work meant more to them than she did.

Oh, what have I done? I had the chance to have everything my parents didn’t have. And I threw it all away because I convinced myself it wasn’t possible.

I was blind and stupid and I didn’t give us a chance. No wonder Dylan hates me, and I have no one to blame but myself. All I can do is live with my regrets and hope that Dylan will have the rich, full life he truly deserves.

Alex didn’t miss the splotches that looked very much like tearstains on the bottom of the paper. Her fingers trembled as she carefully folded the paper and just as carefully placed it in the back of the book, where she found a dried pink rosebud tucked into a plastic bag. She set the book back on her night table.

Alex stared at the book, lost in so many memories. She recalled the pink roses Dylan sent her the day after they met. She had looked up their meaning to discover they meant please believe me. And that their being without thorns meant love at first sight. She thought back to her joy of meeting the man of her dreams, and not to the sorrow that she had single-handedly destroyed their relationship.

She reached over and switched off her lamp, then scooted down under the covers. The muted sound of the television coming from the living room soothed her into slumber. But as the night progressed, her sense of security receded until shadows of menacing figures and splashes of blood disturbed her dreams. She cried out softly in her sleep and thrashed around in the bed, but never fully awoke.

He was not a patient man when his own welfare was at stake.

As he waited for the telephone call that would assure him his life had returned to normal, he sat at his desk studying the contents of a portfolio he had just retrieved from his wall safe. The etchings were very old and erotic, but it wasn’t the blatant sexual acts that aroused him as much as the expressions of pain on the women’s faces. He had paid a great deal of money to have the etchings stolen from another collector. Every time he spoke to the man at a party or fund-raiser he secretly gloried in the fact he now owned what the other once did.

He allowed the telephone to ring three times before he picked up.

“Do you have my property, Leonard?”

“Not yet.” Leonard didn’t bother going into details unless his boss asked for them.

Even if he valued the man’s honesty, he didn’t appreciate his failure to reach such an easy goal. His expression tightened. “Do not offer me any excuses. I do not want to hear any whining. The only reason you need to contact me is to inform me you have my property.”

“It turned out the unit number we had for her was wrong and we didn’t find out until it was too late. Not until some old lady walked in and started screaming as if we were low-life burglars or somethin’,” the man told him, easily sensing his employer was not happy. “Then some guy was yelling and we had to get out of there fast. We just have to go back and find the right place.”

“Tell me, Leonard, how do you plan to do that? The lady’s address and telephone number are unlisted. So do you intend to break into each and every apartment there? Or do you intend to ask for her by name?” He clenched his fist so tightly his knuckles turned white. “No, you will do nothing.”

“You want us to come back without it?” He sounded surprised. He knew his employer well. Orders were given to stay in Sierra Vista until they found the item. The boss wasn’t one to disobey.

“Of course not.” He forced his jaw to relax. “What I want is for you to remain there until you have retrieved my property. Where are you staying? And you are using the cell phone I provided for you, aren’t you?”

“We’re at some bed-and-breakfast that’s on the edge of town. And yeah, I’m using your phone. I even drove a few miles out of town before calling you.”

“Stay away from where she lives until you hear from me. I will call you tomorrow evening with the appropriate unit number.” He hated the idea of having to wait another day, but he had no choice.

“We can find out without anyone the wiser.”

He knew his men well, and their methods for obtaining information could be painful for some. He still hoped to keep this operation low-key. If he had someone other than himself to blame for this fiasco he would gladly heap the blame on them and make them pay for their error.

“I will take care of discovering the information you need.” Ice covered each word. “Stay out of bars and out of trouble.” He disconnected and barely managed to stop slamming the phone down on the cradle. He vowed that if the men didn’t succeed with their task, he would make sure the incompetent louts ended up at the bottom of San Francisco Bay.

He regretted that he hadn’t done the intelligent thing and had the records encrypted. It was the only mistake he had ever made. Now the disk could destroy everything he’d carefully built over the years.

Chapter 5

“What if I underwent hypnosis? Maybe that could free whatever is trapped in my subconscious.”

Dylan leaned against the counter with his arms crossed in front of his chest. If such a thing was possible he looked both relaxed and alert for any danger that might come up. He was presently less-than-patiently waiting for enough coffee to drip into the pot so he could have a cup. He was positive the coffeemaker was deliberately taking its time in order to torture him. No wonder Alex’s entrance and abrupt statements made absolutely no sense to his caffeine-deprived brain. He thought about her question for a moment before he replied.

“I think you should talk to your doctor first and see what he thinks. My layman’s opinion is pretty much a resounding no. I tried hypnosis when I wanted to stop smoking and it didn’t work. Yes, I know some therapists who use it are successful, and yes, some people achieve their desired results. Maybe my failure came from the idea of coming out of the doctor’s office flapping my arms and clucking like a chicken.”

Alex’s lips twitched as she looked down at the floor. “Now, there’s a picture,” she said, trying not to laugh. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember ever seeing you smoke. How did you stop?”

“I smoked through school and up until about a year or so before we met. It was easy to quit when Celeste started charging me a buck every time she found a cigarette on me or discovered I sneaked a smoke. The woman was a regular little bulldog when it came to making sure I didn’t light up. Trust me, it was easy to quit after she threw a real nice barbecue for the department thanks to me,” he said ruefully.

Dylan squinted at Alex through tired eyes. No wonder it wasn’t advised for cops to investigate cases involving family members or someone you were emotionally involved with. You just plain couldn’t work when your head wasn’t on straight. He didn’t consider himself emotionally involved with Alex, unless he considered the insanity he’d created with his crazy alimony payments. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was involved more than as a concerned ex-husband. The past couple of days had shown him a whole new Alex. She wasn’t the same woman he’d first fallen in love with or even the woman he’d divorced. He felt she was someone even better. And now she was standing in front of him looking more approachable than he’d seen her in some time.

Her forest-green linen pants and short-sleeved cream, brick-red, olive-green and dark tan top looked as if they had just come off the dry cleaner’s hanger. A round-cut topaz in a deep olive shade dropped from a delicate gold chain, nestling in the faint hollow of her breasts. She’d pulled her hair up into a high ponytail that trailed across her nape. Apparently she didn’t care that the stitches showed. Another sign of the new Alex. She still wasn’t able to easily cover up the cuts and bruises that decorated her face. He wondered if he would ever lose the memory of seeing her bruised and battered.

“I’d like nothing more than to have a few minutes alone with the bastard who did that to you,” he murmured.

She smiled slightly. “Be a gentleman, Dylan, and let me have a go at him first.” She chuckled at his look of surprise. “History will tell you that women can be bloodthirsty, too. Right now, I’d like to have the chance to get a little payback.”

“No problem. I’ll even hold him down for you.” He poured a second cup of coffee and held it out to her.

“How shall we start off the day?” she asked, accepting his offer. They felt that old awareness spark between them so strongly that Alex almost dropped the cup. She stepped away and wrapped her fingers around the bowl for the warmth.

He paused in sipping the life-sustaining brew. “We?”

Alex nodded. “As in you and me. I told you I intend to be a part of the investigation whether you like it or not.” She sipped the hot liquid with caution. The whisper of a sigh of enjoyment escaped her lips as the high-octane caffeine hit her system with full force.

Dylan sighed. “I thought about going by the station to corner Whitmire and see if he has anything new that he’s conveniently forgotten to tell me about.”

“I thought he would call you if he learned anything,” she said, leaning back against the counter. “He knows you’re part of the investigation.”

“Whitmire has issues where I’m concerned. If he can get away with keeping me out of the loop, he will. He knows I won’t complain to the lieutenant, since I prefer to fight my own battles. Plus, Lieutenant Adams would just yank me off the case, figuring I was acting like a pain in Whitmire’s butt.” He glanced at his watch. “Since food hasn’t magically appeared in your refrigerator since yesterday morning, I guess we’ll go out for some breakfast first.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll call Janet and remind her I won’t be in today.” She reached for her phone. After she completed her call, she finished her coffee, rinsed out the cup and placed it in the dishwasher.

Dylan flipped open his cell phone and spoke a name for instant dialing.

“Dante,” Celeste murmured.

“Hey, ’Leste, it’s me. Anything come up from Forensics about Alex’s attack?” he asked. He could hear a rustle of papers in the background, then the click of computer keys.

“Nothing, and I just checked your e-mail to make sure there was nothing there,” she replied. “Alan is in if you want to talk to him.”

Dylan frowned. “How could you check my e-mail?”

“Oh, please, your password is your favorite cartoon character. It took me all of five minutes to figure that one out.”

“What’s your password?” he asked.

“If I can figure yours out, you can try to figure mine out. Do you want me to transfer you to Alan’s extension? Or do you want to speak to the lieutenant?”

“I don’t really have time to talk to either one right now. I’ll be coming in in a little while to talk to Whitmire,” he decided.

“No prob.” She paused. “Everything okay there?”

Dylan was aware Celeste knew more than anyone what he went through before, during and after his divorce. She was a good friend he knew he could count on.

“Her memory is still spotty, but she’s holding up pretty well,” he replied.

“You need to be careful, Dylan.” She spoke in a low voice so no one would overhear her if they stood near her desk.

“This is part of the job, ’Leste.” He knew what she was thinking. He and his partner had been in sync enough times for him to know what was going on in her head. She was worried about his getting emotionally involved since he and Alex shared such an emotional past. “The attacker can’t hide forever. Either me or Whitmire will find out who went after Alex and one day she’ll wake up with her memory intact. At that time, we’ll be grateful to go our separate ways. Now, I gotta go.”

“Okay,” she conceded, even if she didn’t totally believe him. “I’ll see you when you get in, then.”

Dylan closed his phone and slipped it onto his belt clip. As he turned, he realized he was no longer alone. Alex stood in the kitchen doorway. There was no expression on her face. She had completely closed herself off from him. He had a bad feeling it had to do with his phone call.

“Alex,” he began, deciding to meet her head-on. Get her to open up. Maybe now she would, unlike the way she’d been toward the end of their marriage.

She shook her head. “Everything is fine,” she said, anticipating the rest of his question. “This is a hard time for both of us.” She turned away.

We’ll be grateful to go our separate ways. Alex couldn’t imagine why the words hurt so much. Dylan had already told her they hadn’t had much contact since their divorce. If he didn’t want to be around her that much, why was he here now? Why was he going out of his way to help her?

Alex blinked rapidly to hold back the tears as she reached for her purse. She sensed that if she remembered all the details of their divorce, what she had just overheard wouldn’t have affected her the way it did.

Or maybe it would have hurt even more. She looked down at her hand and noticed her knuckles were white with tension from holding on to the strap so tightly. She made an effort to loosen her grip. When she looked up she found Dylan watching her with an odd expression on his face.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she snapped. “In fact, I’d feel even better if people would stop asking me if I’m all right.”

Dylan held up his hands in surrender and immediately backed off. “Message received.” He pulled his key ring out of his pants pocket.

Alex looked down at Clarence, who was twining his body around her legs. “I’m sure you’ll be fine while we’re gone,” she assured the cat.

Dylan smiled. “Don’t worry, Alex. Before you know it, life will be back to the way it was.”

Alex nodded and proceeded toward the stairs. She didn’t tell Dylan that she wasn’t sure she wanted her old life back—she wasn’t certain she would enjoy it as she must have before.

Dylan should have realized there was a chance Alex could overhear his conversation with Celeste. He would have thought that she would be relieved when her life returned to normal. He felt she had been hurt enough and the idea that he’d inadvertently hurt her further distressed him. He only hoped he could find a way to make it up to her.

But as they sat in his pickup truck, he sensed Alex shifting in her seat as she looked out the window. “Anything in particular you’re hungry for?”

“Could we just go back to where we went yesterday?” she asked. “It’s basically a restaurant where police go, so we might feel safer talking about the case, wouldn’t we? There would be no worries about someone overhearing something they shouldn’t.”

Dylan grinned. “Sweetheart, even cops gossip, but they’ll give us our space and we should have no trouble finding a booth for some privacy. Then I need to run by my place and shower and change.”

“We can do that first if you’d prefer,” she offered.

He flipped on the turn signal and quickly changed lanes. “It won’t take me long.”

Alex continued looking out the window. “Do you still hate it when you don’t shave first thing in the morning?” Her voice was subdued, almost hesitant.

“Yeah. I never could go for the scruffy look,” he said almost cheerfully. “My beard always itched too much.”

She cocked her head to one side as she studied him. “You really don’t trust Detective Whitmire to keep you updated, do you?”

He shook his head. “I told you. He has issues with me. I guess if I was being honest, I’d say I have issues with him, too. Plus, I’ll need to file a report about last night.”

“Did you call the hospital this morning and ask about Mrs. Bridger?” She looked guilty. “I should have thought of that first thing.”

“According to the nurses’ station, she’s still under sedation,” he replied. “You have a lot on your mind, Alex. You can’t handle everything that comes along. Sometimes you have to trust that it will all come out okay.”

She shook her head. “The only way you can be sure something is done right is to do it yourself.”

Dylan remembered her making similar statements before. He was determined this time around to show her it took two. They had once worked well together. He didn’t see any reason why they couldn’t do it again. He just had to remember to protect his heart this time around.

He thought of the nights they’d stayed up late debating anything and everything. Dylan had seen a part of her that had him falling more in love with her every day. He’d looked forward to waking up in the morning, seeing her face on the pillow next to him and falling asleep with her nestled in his arms. He’d never thought of himself as a romantic guy, but Alex had brought out that side of him. He had flowers delivered to her. He sent her silly cards and risqué poems. Then there were those midnight picnics when he was off duty that had more to do with seduction than food.

He shifted uneasily in the seat as he realized his memories were on the verge of giving him an erection. He determinedly shifted his thoughts from sex to the hell that shot up in their marriage toward the end. Except instead of fire heating up his nether regions, he felt more an icy cold. Now he felt more in control. He only hoped it would last.

Alex looked out the window again, then turned in the seat so she could face him. “This is our street,” she said uncertainly. Her hands, lying in her lap, twisted together.

Dylan kept his gaze squarely on the windshield in front of him. “I kept the house.” He’d be happy if she didn’t ask him any more questions. Except Alex didn’t believe in not asking questions. He used to tease her that it was the lawyer in her that kept the questions coming at warp speed. She always believed she needed to know everything. Now he feared that bringing her to the house was a mistake even if he intended to take the fastest shower in history and get them out of there before memories of her haunted the premises again. Since he needed more changes of clothing, he had no choice but to stop at the house. He noticed her shoulders stiffen as he steered the car toward a one-story house set in the center of a cul-de-sac.

“It’s a different color,” she whispered, staring at the dark cream exterior with redwood trim.

Dylan remembered the hours Alex had spent poring over paint samples. All we were doing back then was playing house. Not building a marriage.

He ruthlessly tamped down the thoughts that had haunted him for some time. He’d gone through enough what-ifs back when he was served with the divorce papers. He pulled into the driveway and stopped the car.

“I shouldn’t be too long.” He slanted her a look as he opened the driver’s door. “Do you want to come in?”

Yes. No. She took a deep breath as she looked at the house that she remembered they’d looked forward to turning into a real home. Instead she was living in a condo that looked as impersonal and sterile as a hotel room. The only homey touch there was Clarence.

“If you wouldn’t mind.” She waited until he opened the door for her. She noticed he barely touched her hand as he helped her out. Was her touch suddenly that unbearable? She wondered anew what had prompted the severing of their relationship.

“Just don’t scream,” he warned her as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. He quickly punched in a disarming code for the alarm and allowed her to enter.

“Why would I…?” Alex swallowed the sounds of horror that crawled up her throat as she faced a cluttered living room that looked more like a clothing store after an earthquake. A sweatshirt was draped over the back of a chair while a green polo shirt and a pair of jeans was tossed in a chair. Battered tennis shoes lay near the couch, along with a black baseball cap bearing SVPD in red embroidery on the front. Her fingers itched to pick up the discarded clothing, but she knew she didn’t have the right. “It’s fine,” she said faintly, moving over to the one chair that was empty of items.

Dylan hid a grin as he moved down the hallway to the rear of the house, where she knew the master bedroom lay. “I won’t be long,” he told her.

Where is all the gorgeous furniture I picked out? Alex laid her palm against her throat as she looked around the room. She didn’t see one familiar piece of furniture or accessory.

Her beloved colorful throw pillows were gone, no decorative vases, no artwork! The only decoration she could find was a battered coaster on the coffee table in the family room and a handgun magazine lying near the chair facing the flat-screen TV placed on the wall over the fireplace, where her favorite impressionist print used to hang.

Alex didn’t know whether to scream or cry. This wasn’t the house she’d once lived in. She roamed aimlessly through the living room to the family room and kitchen in search of anything that might seem familiar to her. She glanced out the patio door that led to the backyard and noticed a small table and a few chairs out there along with an elaborate gas grill. She noted a basketball backboard attached to the roof at the edge of the patio.

I wouldn’t be surprised if he even replaced the grass. She moved past the refrigerator she was tempted to peek into and returned to the living room. She paused to stare at the fireplace. She rewound her memory bank until she could mentally access a particular night. Dylan had brought home a sheepskin rug, then laid it out in front of the hearth along with a bottle of wine and one glass for them to share. Dylan enjoyed sharing, she recalled with a smile. That evening was one she knew she would never forget. Her smile dimmed as another memory pushed its way upward.

“You need to make a choice, Alex. You need to decide what’s more important. Or maybe I should say who.”

She dug her fingers into her palms as she tried desperately to hang on to the fleeting memory.

When Dylan entered the room, he was dressed in a pair of black jeans and a charcoal polo shirt that echoed the color of his eyes. His hair was still damp from his shower. A faint hint of woodsy aftershave drifted toward her as he came closer. He set down the small duffel bag he carried. She couldn’t believe how grateful she was that he still used the same aftershave.

He glanced over at her as he fastened his watch around his wrist. “What’s wrong?”

She tried to be casual, shrug off her feelings, but she couldn’t. “Everything is different here,” she murmured. “Unfamiliar.”

Dylan grimaced. “I’m sorry, I should have realized this would be a bad idea.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “Here I’ve been telling you you need to discover that missing time on your own and then I bring you to the last place you should be in.”

“What happened to our furniture?” she asked, experiencing more pain than anger at so many changes in the house she remembered as a newlywed’s nest. She tossed up her hands. “To everything else?”

“You didn’t want any of it,” he admitted. “So I had a yard sale.”

Alex stared down at the floor. Even the carpet was a different color and texture. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to scream or hit him. At the moment, the idea of committing bodily harm was winning the battle. She swallowed every angry word rolling around inside her. They burned her throat like acid.

“Can we go now?” she asked quietly. She refused to look at him for fear that fury might crop up again.

“Sure.” A subdued Dylan guided her out the door, pausing long enough to set the alarm before following her out to his truck.

As he backed out of the driveway, Alex stared straight ahead, then wished she hadn’t. The terra-cotta planters by the front door that she had kept filled with seasonal flowers were also gone. What she remembered looking warm and homey now seemed…bare.

I lost my memory. I lost my husband. I lost my home. And I have no idea why. The bleak words echoed over and over inside her head. The sense of isolation intensified until she felt like resting her forehead against the window and bursting into tears.

She was grateful that Dylan remained silent during the drive to the restaurant, though what appetite she’d had was now gone. She kept replaying the memory of his words in her head. Why he’d said them was her question, but not one she would ask until she felt ready to hear his answer.

When Alex felt the sensation of the truck slowing down, she opened her eyes and looked through the glass. The idea that someone meant to hurt her didn’t seem as important right now.

“Alex,” Dylan murmured. She looked over her shoulder. “I know you want answers,” he said, echoing her thoughts, “but I’ve got to go by what the doctor advised. You’ve had a lot to deal with in the past few days. The last thing you need is any more.”

Furious, she pushed the door open, hopping out before Dylan could even get out of the vehicle. She was halfway to the front door of the diner before Dylan could catch up with her. His posture was stiff with tension.

“Dammit, Alex, you just don’t want to make things easy, do you?” he muttered, his arm snaking out to open the glass door for her.

“As you said, I’ve had a difficult time lately. I’m allowed to be in a snit.” She swept through with the poise of royalty.

Tank stood at the counter talking to a uniformed patrol officer when he noticed their entrance. He raised an eyebrow at the tension radiating off the duo and jerked his head toward the rear of the restaurant.

Alex was aware of the warmth of Dylan’s hand resting against the small of her back as they walked to the last booth. She recognized it as the unconscious gesture of a man claiming ownership, even if he was presently angry with her. For some reason he wanted the others in the diner to know she was off-limits.

They were barely seated when Tank appeared, setting two mugs of coffee in front of them. He studied Alex’s face. “You better come in here when you have your beautiful face back again.”

She had to smile. “So because of a few cuts and bruises I’m not beautiful now?”

“Hell, we all know a few cuts and bruises have nothing to do with a person’s beauty. I just want to see what you look like without all the Technicolor on your face. Give a holler when you’re ready to order,” he growled, moving off.

“The guy just has to flirt.” Dylan scowled at Tank’s departing figure.

Alex smiled. She realized she felt lighter in spirit than she had for some time. For all she knew, she hadn’t felt this way even before her attack.

“I bet he can still charm the women,” she said, studying the menu and making her decision.

“Into a fit of hysteria, maybe,” he muttered. “You know what you want to eat?”

I’d rather know what happened between us. She nodded and waited as Dylan waved Tank over. The man took their orders and left.

“I would still like to try the hypnosis,” she said. “I don’t see why you would argue against it when there is an excellent chance it could work.”

“And an equally excellent chance it wouldn’t,” Dylan pointed out. “You were hit on the side of the head near the rear, which meant you had your back to the assailant. With the fog coming in, visibility wasn’t great, and you were on your cell phone when you were struck. You were distracted—which adds up to your not seeing a thing.”

“But I could have still heard something,” she insisted, leaning across the table. “I’ll even pay for the session.”

Dylan’s lips twisted. He looked past her. “You have this insatiable need to know, don’t you? Alex, this isn’t covered under the Freedom of Information Act.”

“There is nothing wrong with that kind of need, Dylan.” She paused to take a sip of her coffee, grateful for the jolt of caffeine in her system.

His jaw worked. “How about a compromise, then? If we’re at a dead end in a week, you can undergo hypnosis. Is that good enough for you?”

She thought about it for a moment, then stuck out her hand. “Deal.”

Alex swore Dylan hesitated before wrapping his hand around hers. “I thought lawyers wanted everything written in triplicate with every t crossed and i dotted before you seal a deal.”

“We do, but I’m not a lawyer right now. I’m a victim.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t want to argue with you, Dylan. I want you to help me find these men.”

“Whitmire has officers checking the motel and the B and B just outside of town. They’re also going out to the Renegade to see if anyone new has been hanging around there.” The local bar just outside of town was popular with the rough-and-tough motorcycle set. “I admit your memories are scrambled, but you know you were in San Francisco because Janet has your schedule and she knows who you saw while you were there,” he said. “You keep your focus cynical as you target those particular clients.”

“And I told you my clients are reputable businesspeople,” she argued.

Dylan leaned forward until his nose almost touched hers. “So who do you think it is, Alex? Maybe you weren’t completely forthcoming with Whitmire or me the other day. Maybe there is a relationship gone bad somewhere.”

Alex narrowed her eyes. “And maybe you can go to—”

“Time out, kiddies.” Plates were unceremoniously plopped down on the table in front of them. The tempting fragrance of bacon and eggs wafted upward. A plate of toast and packets of jams followed. Tank looked from one to the other. “Eat, then fight.”

“We’re having a disagreement,” Alex explained, picking up her fork.

“Just a fancier word for fight,” Tank said. He glanced at Dylan. “You still looking for the SOB who did that to her?”

“Working on it.” He looked at the older man with a pointed expression. “Which is why we’re grateful for the rear booth and some privacy.”

Tank harrumphed. “I’ll get you some more coffee,” he told Alex.

Dylan noticed his own cup wasn’t topped off but knew better than to say anything. He concentrated on his food instead.

“Has anything new come to you?” he asked. “A hint of anything at all that I can pass on to Whitmire?”

Alex again thought of the words that floated through her head at the house and the beginning pages in her journal. She knew neither would help her at this moment. She shook her head. “Any time I try to force the issue I end up with a headache.”

Dylan nodded. “The doctor felt it would all come back, but it would have to happen at its own rate.”

“I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me. I just want this all over.” She ignored the misery coloring her voice.

Dylan’s gaze warmed with sympathy. “I know it hasn’t been easy for you. You act so tough that I forget this kind of situation is all new for you.”

“At least no one has ever shot at me,” she said, then paused. “Have they?”

“Not that I know of.” He shook his head. “The problem is we have so little to work on. We have no idea what the assailants looked like and no idea why they targeted you unless you just happened to be an easy mark for them.”

“Except you don’t believe I was an easy mark. That’s why you think it has to do with one of my clients, because you think it makes some sort of sense.” She toyed with her eggs. “If you only knew how boring my clients are.”

“But do you know about them now? What if you acquired a client in the past couple of years who wasn’t all that boring?” Dylan pointed out. His tone gentled. “You can’t really know that, can you?”

“My files will tell me what I need to know. I’ll have Janet fax over the pertinent pages.”

“Do you detail everything, Alex? Would you write down if you had a hunch about one of them? Would you write something if there was something about one of them that bugged you?” he asked. “Or do you keep your notes strictly business?”

I kept a journal about us, so anything is possible. “I won’t know what I have on my newer clients until I look through their files, but I’ve always jotted down my impressions of clients,” she said. She looked down at her plate, which had been emptied faster than she’d expected it to be. “How do you deal with all this?”

“With all what?”

“With all this uncertainty,” Alex said. She toyed with her coffee mug. “In some ways, our work is similar. We both deal with facts and evidence, but after that our work obviously goes in different directions. What do you do when you are pursuing a case like mine where the evidence is almost nonexistent? How do you go about discovering the truth when you have so little to work on?” She knew if she heard the plea for understanding in her voice Dylan had to have heard it also.

A tiny smile touched the corners of his lips. “In a way, that’s the easy part. You just take it one step at a time,” he said softly. “Even when you think you don’t have anything to work with, you can learn that there might be something there. What one detective might miss, another one might find. Each of us has our own strengths in investigation. Such as Celeste and me. I look at the overall big picture while she loves the chance to dig in and find all the little stuff.”

“And Alan Whitmire? When all is said and done, this is his case. What will he look for? Or will he eventually push it to one side because there’s nothing more to investigate?” She didn’t want to admit that that was her true fear. That her case would be shelved before it was solved and she would feel vulnerable to her attackers, who would still be out there.

Dylan thought for a moment. “Whitmire makes an anal personality look like a free spirit. Some of the guys joke he would have made the perfect fed, right down to the crisp white shirt, dark tie and dark suit. I may give him a hard time, but he is a good cop. He’s one of those dig-in types. Makes you think of those little terriers that don’t stop until they find what they’re looking for.”

“You’re talking personality type, not how you do it.”

“Maybe because it’s the personality that keeps us going,” he explained. “Some people are meant to be a detective—they’re willing to keep on going even when it looks as if they have nothing to work with.”

“Like now,” Alex murmured.

He started ticking it off on his fingers. “You forget, we have a victim who’s still in one piece, we recovered her stolen articles, we have an alert out on her stolen credit cards, there were fingerprints on her bag even if we didn’t get any immediate hits on them and we have the best of the best working on the case.” His eyes twinkled at her. “It’s a slam dunk, sweetheart.”

She had to smile back. But then she always did when Dylan smiled. She remembered believing his smiles were what kept her warm during the cold nights just as much as his arms did. “You’re trying to reassure me, aren’t you?”

“It’s all part of the job.” He looked up as Tank stopped by the table and topped off their mugs.

“The booth is yours as long as you need it,” Tank told them before moving off.

Alex closed her eyes and tried to recall the night of her attack, but all she could remember was waking up in the hospital’s emergency room with a nasty headache. Frustration once again bubbled up. She was brutal in pushing the emotion down.

“You would have thought it would have been more expedient for the thief to steal my car also instead of just running away.”

“Sweetheart, you’ve got to stop using all those ten-dollar words,” Dylan advised. “This simple cop tends to stick with the easy ones.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Simple cop, my ass.”

“And a nice one at that.” He grinned, his eyes warm with the same laughter.

Alex felt a sense of warmth settle around her like a soft blanket. This was the Dylan she had fallen in love with.

You have the chance to take back your life, Alex!

She knew the words that just ran through her mind weren’t an old memory but something new. At that moment, she felt empowered and ready to do battle with anyone who interfered with her plans.

She grinned back, noting the surprise in his eyes. “I’ll make a deal with you. You said that you and Detective Whitmire have issues.”

“Not Oprah quality, more like Jerry Springer,” he replied.

Alex nodded. “Then let me talk to him. Between the two of us we’ll get the entire picture of what he has.”

He leaned back in the seat. “I am impressed you figured him out so easily.”

“It was easy. Your active dislike of the man probably blinds you to some of his points, which is how he can get away with putting something over on you. Plus, he will pick and choose his words when he’s talking to me since he knows I’m an attorney and I work with Will Zane. You will be able to read between the lines.”

“You forget one thing. You’re still a civilian. He’s not going to tell you anything about the case.”

“It doesn’t hurt to let me try,” she persisted.

“Fine, see what you can find out, but don’t be disappointed if he shuts you out.” Dylan snatched up the check Tank had left on the table. He looked primed for battle.

Alex felt as if the adrenaline coursing through Dylan echoed in her own body—and damn if it didn’t feel good. Looking at Dylan, she saw her smile echoed on his face.

“At this rate, you’ll be ready to join the force,” he teased her as they headed for the door. “What brought about the change?”

“I think it’s been building up all along until I decided it’s time to do something about it,” she admitted, slanting him a glance. “So watch it, Detective Parker.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dylan grinned. He thought about telling Alex that he liked this new side to her, but held off. He had seen more than one shift in her moods for the past couple of hours and put it down to side effects from her head injuries. Yet he knew something had upset her and he didn’t think it was just his new furniture. He hadn’t wanted to live with so many reminders of Alex, so it had been easier to clear everything out and start fresh. When he’d stopped at the house for a shower and change of clothing, he was afraid seeing the house would affect Alex. But he hadn’t expected her to be so upset.

He thought about the heat that had run between them during their marriage. The spark had been there from the time their eyes met.

Their eyes met? Come on, Parker, get a grip, he mentally ordered himself. If you’re not careful you’ll start sounding like one of those lovesick idiots on those TV soaps.

“Are you sure Detective Whitmire is at the station?” Alex asked.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Celeste. “Easy enough to find out.” Two minutes later Dylan was assured the detective was at his desk.

Once they reached the Sierra Vista Police Station, Dylan guided Alex past desks. Alan Whitmire looked up when they approached him. The man’s mouth tightened as he glanced at them, then he stood and offered them a distant smile.

“I hope you’re feeling better, Ms. Spencer,” he said politely.

“I’ll feel much better once my attackers are caught and my memory is back,” she said. “Otherwise, I’m getting there.”

“Have you come up with anything new, Whitmire?” Dylan asked affably.

“Do you have a report for me?” the other man asked.

“I will.”

Alan looked toward Dylan’s empty desk, turned back to him and cocked an eyebrow. “Then there’s no reason why you can’t write it up while I speak with Ms. Spencer, is there?”

Dylan swallowed the retort that threatened to spring up. All it would take was one verbal battle with Whitmire and the lieutenant would take him off the case.

“Sure thing,” he said with a smile that felt forced. He briefly placed his hand on Alex’s shoulder and inhaled the powdery scent of her perfume as he leaned down. “I’ll be right over there if you need me.”

Alex looked up and smiled. ‘I’ll be fine.”

He knew she meant that in more ways than one. He settled at his desk and watched Alex from across the room. Whitmire tended to be a chauvinist when it came to women. There was no doubt Alex would realize what he was doing and could easily put him in his place.

His grin widened as he anticipated what was to come. While he worked on his report he’d have a front-row seat to the show.

Chapter 6

“We’ll use one of the interrogation rooms,” Detective Whitmire said. “We’ll have more privacy there.”

What is it with cops and their privacy? Alex hid a smile at Dylan’s crestfallen face as they walked past his desk.

Alex kept her expression impersonal as she followed the detective to one of the rear rooms. She noticed it didn’t look as depressing as the interrogation rooms she had seen on television, but she knew it wasn’t a place she’d like to be in for too long. She supposed she should be grateful she was here as a visitor and not as a suspect.

“Would you care for some coffee, Ms. Spencer?” Detective Whitmire asked, pulling out a chair for her.

“No, thank you.” She sat down and allowed him to carefully push the chair toward the table. The chair turned out to be as uncomfortable as it looked. If I had to sit here for too long I’d confess to anything they wanted me to.

He took the chair opposite her and set out a legal pad and pen. “First off, is there any chance you’ve remembered anything new?” He looked expectant.

“Nothing,” she replied. “I have even tried to force it but received nothing but a headache for my efforts.” She sat back, crossed her legs and waited. “What about you, Detective? Why haven’t you captured my attackers yet?”

“What makes you think there were two?”

“There was evidence that two men ransacked my old condo. Since I can’t imagine you viewed it as a coincidence, it stands to reason they were also the ones who mugged me in the airport parking lot,” she pointed out. “Did the evidence your technicians gathered at the condo yield anything useful?”

“We’re still looking into it,” he replied. “Unfortunately, it’s not as quick a process as they show it on TV. Plus, I’m sure you can understand that we can’t share certain aspects of an ongoing case even to ease the victim’s peace of mind.”

She tamped down her frustration that he wasn’t going to share any findings with her. This had to do with her life, dammit, not his!

“Then what can you tell me, Detective?” she asked, resisting the urge to snarl at the man.

“I’m sure what I’d tell you is what you already know. Perhaps you can tell me what happened last night?” he asked quietly.

She thought back. “Dylan and I heard a woman screaming. He immediately left my condo and told me to call 911, then he went to investigate. The woman living in my former condo was having a heart attack.” She winced as she remembered what she’d come upon when she followed Dylan. She had to take a deep breath before she could continue. She realized that Alan Whitmire was effective in interrogation. He had a quiet yet relentless way about him as he made sure she relayed all the information she recalled from that day. “Were you able to speak with Mrs. Bridger and find out anything from her?”

He shook his head. “She’s in critical condition. The doctor doesn’t know when, if ever, we’ll be able to talk to her.”

Alex felt a lurch in the pit of her stomach. ‘Did they say she might die?” Her voice broke.

“The doctor doesn’t know.”

With a knock on the door, Dylan walked in and dropped a sheaf of papers onto the table in front of Detective Whitmire. “Thought you might like to read this.” He took the chair to Alex’s left, turned it around and sat down with his arms resting along the back. He looked from one to the other. “Did I miss anything?”

Detective Whitmire looked more irritated than welcoming to his colleague. “I would think Detective Dante would need to catch you up on the work you have had to abandon,” he said stiffly.

“She’s doing fine.” Dylan’s smile just grew wider. “Anything from the crime-scene techs yet?”

“No.” The man’s voice grew more stilted as he first skimmed Dylan’s report then looked from Dylan to Alex. “We learned that Mrs. Bridger’s cleaning service was in that morning.” He turned to Alex and delivered unexpected news. “It’s the same service you use, in fact. It also appears some items were indeed taken. Mrs. Bridger’s daughter told us that her diamond wedding set and an emerald-and-diamond bracelet were taken. The bracelet was a fortieth wedding anniversary present from her husband. She wore it always. I’ve added robbery to the charges.”

Dylan shook his head. “You’ve got an awesome recovery rate, Whitmire. You’ll get the jewelry back.”

The man looked surprised by Dylan’s words. “I intend to. I was just hoping that Ms. Spencer had been able to come up with some new information for me. Us,” he quickly amended.

“I would love nothing more than to give you an exact description of the assailants,” she said. “Especially since you all have been very kind in expediting the tests so I could receive my property back in such a timely manner.” She smiled warmly at him. “I really appreciate it.”

The taciturn detective thawed under the force of her warm smile and even seemed to relax.

“It was the least we could do after everything you had been through,” he said.

Alex stood up and picked up her purse. “I’m just sorry that I can’t help you more, Detective Whitmire.”

The man was clearly amazed that she was taking the initiative in ending the interview, not him. He quickly recovered as he pocketed his pen and picked up his legal pad. “We’ll be checking with anyone who might handle jewelry of that nature. And naturally, if anything comes up we’ll be in touch. If anything comes to mind will you contact me immediately?”

“Of course.” She held out her hand. “As I’ve told Detective Parker, I don’t wish anyone else to go through what I did.”

“Yes, well…” Detective Whitmire accepted her hand then looked at Dylan. “Unfortunately, with no leads we won’t be able to do much more on your case. All we can do is pursue any leads we find from the break-in at Mrs. Bridger’s.”

“So this is it? First you tell me you can’t tell me anything about my case because it is ongoing. Now you’re saying you’re no longer investigating it. Which means you can release to me anything you’ve found so far,” she persisted.

Detective Whitmire shrugged apologetically. “We don’t release anything on current cases, Ms. Spencer. I’m sure you can understand that without much in the way of concrete evidence our hands are tied. Naturally, if anything new comes up, we will check it out, but…” His voice trailed off as if he knew there was little he could do.

“Those men are still looking for me!” Alex argued. “They only went to that other condo by mistake. If they’d come to the right one, they might have….” She stopped because she didn’t want to imagine what would have happened if the men had come to her condo and Dylan hadn’t been there with her. She found herself turning to Dylan, silently appealing to him with her eyes.

“I can keep on it,” Dylan said quickly. “Lieu won’t mind.”

Detective Whitmire frowned. “I will speak to Lieutenant Adams about that, but you know how he is about any of us working on cases that, well, have little to go on.” He nodded to them both and left the room.

Dylan swore under his breath.

Alex clutched her purse tightly. She knew she had basically admitted she was afraid to both men, but she didn’t care. She felt her knees start to buckle. She grabbed the back of the chair for balance.

“You feel the two men are looking for something,” she said, listening to the squeak in her voice. “Since we can assume they haven’t found it yet, they’ll eventually find my condo. Or find me elsewhere.” She felt her sense of empowerment dissolve like sugar in coffee.

Dylan touched her shoulder. “Nothing is going to happen to you, Alex, because I’m going to find them before they even get close to you,” he vowed quietly. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Alex was aware of curious eyes directed their way as they walked through the squad room. She sensed it had something to do with the fact she was Dylan’s ex-wife.

“May I use your cell phone?” she asked him after they returned to his truck. He unclipped it from his belt and handed it to her. She punched in her office number and was instantly connected with her assistant. After assuring Janet she was all right, she made her request and was assured the papers she needed would be sent by courier over to her home.

“If you’d rather you can log on to the office network from home,” her assistant told her.

“Janet told me I can log on to my files from my home computer,” she told Dylan as she handed him back his phone.

“Good. Do you feel like going by the airport parking lot? See if anything seems familiar to you?”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to push me to regain my memory.” She didn’t know why, but the idea of going out to the parking lot sent her stomach somersaulting.

“I’m not supposed to give you facts you need to learn on your own,” he corrected. “This way we’re just seeing if something seems familiar to you.”

Alex’s head started pounding as she thought over Dylan’s suggestion. She realized that swallowing wasn’t easing the sudden dryness in her throat. “Could we stop somewhere so I could get something to drink?” she asked.

Dylan shot a quick look at her, noted her paler-than-normal features and made a quick turn. She was grateful he didn’t ask any questions as he parked at a fast-food joint and they walked inside.

“Too early for anything stronger.” He smiled at her as he brought two diet Cokes back to their small corner table. He handed her one of the cups before sitting in the chair across from her.

She nodded her thanks as she sipped the liquid through the straw. She felt more relaxed once the dryness in her throat was eased.

“I still don’t remember anything about the attack, yet the minute you asked me if I would go back to that parking lot I felt as if you were asking me to enter some sort of hall of nightmares,” she admitted, digging through her purse until she found a small bottle of aspirin. She shook out two tablets and grimaced as she swallowed them. “I may not remember everything, but I do know I wasn’t normally this wishy-washy.”

“Yeah, you’ve always been pretty much a take-charge woman,” he said quietly. “Just one more thing we can blame on the head injury, I guess. I wouldn’t call you wishy-washy. You’re just trying to find your way.”

“That’s a nice way of saying I lost my mind along with my memory.” She looked across the room and watched a woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties. She had a toddler in a high chair on each side of her as she shared hash brown nuggets and small cups of juice with them. There was no doubt she was enjoying herself. The woman smiled and appeared to be chattering away to each of them. Alex felt a small hitch in her chest. Could that have been her if she and Dylan hadn’t divorced? Except she did remember that there had been no mention of children while they pursued their careers. No, she was the one who sought to move up the career ladder fast.

You have to make a choice, Dylan’s voice echoed inside her head.

Obviously, I made one. But was it the wrong one? she thought miserably, turning away before Dylan guessed something other than her circumstances was upsetting her. As she turned back to him, her gaze swept across the drive-through lane that passed them. The driver of the car in her line of sight stared right back at her. Except instead of an impersonal stare, he looked at her with shock, his face turning red. She didn’t recognize him.

But he clearly knew who she was.

An electric sensation traveled down the back of her neck. The man may not have looked familiar to her, but deep down she had the strongest feeling she knew exactly who he was. Taming down her excitement, she determinedly kept a bland expression and her gaze centered on her cup.

“Dylan, I think the men who attacked me are going through the drive-through,” she whispered.

Not by a flicker of an eyelash did Dylan let on he heard her words. He smiled at her as if he had all the time in the world, even as he rose to his feet.

“Ready?” he inquired as he picked up his cup and, with a practiced throw, tossed it neatly in the nearby trash bin. Alex nodded and followed him to the door with her cup still in her hand as she remained fast on his heels.

“Which car is it?” he asked tersely, now running to his truck.

“The beige Toyota.” She pulled open the passenger door and threw herself inside as he started up the engine.

“Great! There’re three beige Toyotas in line!” Dylan swore as he started to back up, almost slamming into an SUV driving behind him.

“The Camry!” Alex gripped the dashboard as she twisted around to watch the drive-through lane where the man and his passenger were trapped behind another car. She only had to see the man’s panicked expression to know he was aware of who she was. He was making wild gestures to his passenger, who looked just as terrified.

Dylan gunned the engine, fully prepared to block the car, but before he could get over there, a UPS truck pulled in front of him and stopped.

“Move it!” Dylan shouted, then flashed his shield at the startled driver. “Move it now!” He quickly shifted gears as the large brown truck moved forward.

“Dylan, they’re getting away!” Alex grabbed his arm.

“Not if I can help it.” With a grim expression on his face, he swerved around the delivery truck, drove over a curb and narrowly missed sideswiping a car as he made a hard right toward the exit that the car in question was racing toward. “So you recognized those guys?”

“More like the driver recognized me.” She realized she hadn’t buckled her seat belt and quickly pulled it across her chest. “He looked…I don’t know, scared when he saw me. They’re on the street already! Can’t you use a siren?” She practically bounced up and down in her seat.

“You’re sure enough they’re the ones?” he asked.

“Yes!”

Dylan pulled down his visor and switched on his LEO strobe light, then flipped the switch for the siren as he called in the information to Dispatch.

Dylan’s head swiveled one way then the other. “Where are those guys?”

“There! Left! Left!” she practically screamed as she pointed in the direction she wanted him to take.

“Who knew there were so many damn beige Toyota Camrys in town,” he muttered. He made a sharp turn, downshifted and swerved around cars until he was almost on the rear bumper of their quarry. The minute he saw it, he swore loud and strong before switching off the visor light and siren and pulling over to the side. He faced forward, keeping a tight grip on the steering wheel.

“Dylan! They’re getting away!” she yelled at him.

“That was a Ford Contour, not a Toyota Camry,” he said in a controlled voice.

Alex slumped back in the seat. “I was positive it was the same car leaving the parking lot.”

“Both cars have a similar body type.” He released a deep sigh. “I called in the sighting. Since they know you saw them they’ll probably ditch the car first chance they get. I’ll put in an alert for patrol to be on the lookout for any abandoned beige Camrys. If we’re lucky it’s a rental we can trace. Hopefully they won’t have taken the time to wipe down the vehicle and we might be able to lift some prints.” He took several deep breaths.

Dylan concentrated on calming himself. Alex picked her cup up and sipped her drink.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how I lost them,” she said softly.

“It happens.” Dylan reined in the adrenaline that had been coursing through his system. He mentally slapped himself upside the head for not handling this better. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. “But at least we know whoever is after you is still in town,” he said.

“That’s comforting,” Alex murmured.

“Can you give any kind of description?”

“Probably not enough for a good ID. I have no idea of height or weight or eye color. Dark hair, either dark brown or black. Sunglasses.” Alex closed her eyes as if trying to relive the scene. “Maybe late thirties, early forties. I couldn’t see his passenger at all.”

“We got an idea of height from the security tapes as compared to your height. What you just gave is more than we had an hour ago,” Dylan pointed out. “How about we swing by the station and you check out mug shots while his face is fresh in your mind?”

“Why doesn’t that prospect sound appealing?”

“Yeah, it can be time-consuming. But we can also get lucky.”

Alex closed her eyes with the intention of recreating the man’s face in her mind. “All right, let’s do it.”

“That’s my girl.” He patted her thigh as he made a quick turn.

Three hours and lots of eyestrain later, Alex stumbled out of the police station with Dylan holding on to her arm.

“That was not fun,” she complained, accepting his hand as she climbed into his truck.

“Police work always looks more interesting on TV,” he admitted, walking around to the driver’s door. “Tell you what. Let’s go back to your place and you can log on to your files.”

Dylan soon turned into Alex’s parking lot and moved down to the visitor’s lot closest to her building.

When they stepped into the living room, the first thing they noticed was that the place had been straightened up and the lemony scent of furniture polish hung in the air.

“Detective Whitmire did say I have a cleaning service.”

Five seconds into Dylan’s call to Alan Whitmire, Dylan felt ready to throttle the guy.

“How do we know she saw the right men?” Whitmire asked. “The woman sustained a severe head injury just a couple of days ago. Maybe it was more a case of wishful thinking.”

Dylan felt his jaw clench so tight he was surprised his teeth didn’t pop out of his mouth. “Alex’s memory might be scrambled, but she isn’t crazy. Besides, she didn’t say she recognized them. She said they recognized her. Why else would they haul ass out of there the way they did? If we hadn’t ended up following the wrong car, I would have had them.”

“Or some innocent citizen suing us for false arrest.” There was a pause on the other end. “I will put in a request to be notified on any abandoned beige Camrys, but I don’t expect much to come from it.”

Dylan took a deep breath and silently counted to ten. “Thank you.”

“I spoke to Lieutenant Adams and he approved your continuing to stay with Ms. Spencer. Are you sure this is a good idea, Parker? Your shared history is no secret.”

“Call it a way to find some closure. Thanks again.” Dylan disconnected the call. He wanted nothing more than to help Alex look over her files, but he knew he was banned from the room. He would just have to trust her judgment.

How did he end up going from plotting crazy ways to pay alimony to her to playing her bodyguard?

Get real, Parker. You still care for her.

He paced the length of the room. He knew Whitmire had delivered her a blow when he said her case was going to be put on a back burner.

“Doesn’t make sense,” he muttered, walking down the hallway and stopping in the doorway. Alex sat at an oak desk with a sheaf of papers in front of her.

“I told you you can’t read any of this,” she warned.

“I know.” He rested a shoulder against the doorjamb. “I just heard that Lieutenant Adams approved my request to stick with you.”

She quickly masked her pleasure. “Except for my case, crime must be quiet.”

“Or he’s found a way to keep me out of his hair.” He nodded toward an elaborate cat bed set in a corner of the room. “Does Clarence really sleep in that thing?”

Alex shook her head. “I don’t know.” She picked up on his intent to apologize. “It was a natural question. Unfortunately, I don’t have an answer. But maybe I’ll find some answers in here.” She held up the papers.

“I meant what I said at the station,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to leave you alone, Alex.”

She managed a faint smile. “Admit it, Dylan. You just want to tweak Detective Whitmire by catching the men.”

“Well, that, too,” he admitted. “It’s been said that if we don’t have anything solid within forty-eight hours, there’s a good chance we won’t be able to solve the crime. But I’m stubborn. Sierra Vista isn’t that large of a town. Those guys can’t hide out forever.”

“So along with your hunch one of my clients is involved is the idea the thugs don’t live locally?” she asked.

He nodded. “When you think about it, it makes more sense if they’re not familiar with the area. They would have made sure to break into the right condo and the mugging would have been a lot cleaner. I’d say this was cheap hired help.”

“And you know this because?”

“I busted my share of B and E guys when I worked patrol.” He looked around the small room. It looked as bland as the others. Nothing to indicate what type of person worked here. He sensed she spent a lot of time in this room, so why not put more color here? He remembered how she’d always kept a small jade statue on her desk at home when they were together. Even that was gone. While he was curious about its absence, he remained quiet on the subject. Instead, he studied Alex.

Her formerly neat ponytail was now loose, leaving stray tendrils brushing her cheeks and forehead. The excitement from the chase had added much-needed color to her cheeks. He had to admit she still looked as if a truck had run over her, but with the cuts and bruises she appeared more, well, human.

Alex looked up. “I need to read this in peace and I can’t concentrate if you’re standing there,” she told him.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Am I bothering you, counselor?” An old memory slipped in as he recalled a time when he wouldn’t have hesitated in walking over and pulling her out of her chair with the intent of luring her to bed. He used to say there was nothing sexier than discovering what color underwear his favorite lawyer was wearing. They had laughed often and loved passionately. While together, they had planned for a future where they would grow old together. Now those memories were nothing more than that—memories. Memories she didn’t even have.

Maybe that was part of the problem right now. He remembered more than she did.

Alex looked up. Her smile slipped as she caught his expression.

He knew just by the shift in her expression that her thoughts were following his. The temperature in the room shot up, intensifying the tension between them. As he watched her, her tongue swiped across her lower lip. Dylan watched the action with the rapt attention of a tiger focused on its prey.

It was as if the air stilled around them with the unnatural calm felt before an earthquake struck.

Did the earth move for you, too? suddenly raced through his mind.

“I need to get back to my reading.” Alex’s voice sounded husky to his ears. The glazed look in her eyes told him she felt the same wave of emotion floating between them as he did.

“I won’t disturb you. I’m just here looking after my charge.” He kept his tone casual. He doubted now was the time to follow up on the electricity between them. He scanned the room again. “You’re not too much on decorating, are you? Too bad you didn’t go into our coffee room. About a year ago somebody put up a drawing of Will Zane. More like a true-life sketch. He sort of looks like a vulture,” Dylan said.

Alex looked off into the distance. Her throat muscles worked furiously as she tried to hold back her laughter.

Dylan studied the torture on her face at her attempt not to break down. “Addison, who drew the sketch, did put him in a nice suit, though,” he added, curious to see what would happen next.

It proved to be successful, as Alex covered her mouth with her hands. In the end, she couldn’t hold it back. Her shoulders started shaking and she finally bent over at the waist as she laughed with a full-bodied sound Dylan knew he’d never heard before. He had no idea she had such a rich laugh. He just stood there and enjoyed the show.

“I guess Will has never seen it,” she said once she regained her voice. She used the tips of her fingers to wipe her eyes.

“I doubt it. So you find that amusing, do you?” He was pleased by her reaction. And more than a little surprised she was acting this way. He knew from past experience that Alex normally didn’t allow herself to let out a good belly laugh. He also remembered that when he used to make fun of Will Zane, she’d argued that Dylan sounded jealous of the man. He knew he had no reason to be jealous of Zane, but it wasn’t worth arguing with her. He wondered what other behavioral changes he would discover in Alex and if they would remain when she regained her memory.

“Most of the time some members of my profession are portrayed in a bad light, but vultures work nicely, too,” she said, then noticed his expression. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh like that,” he admitted. He regretted his words the minute they left his mouth because her smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

“I had no idea I didn’t have a sense of humor,” she said quietly.

“You just turned more serious, is all.” He mentally kicked himself for opening a door better left closed. “I’m sorry, Alex. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She sighed. “You didn’t. You know, when I first walked into this place I felt as if I were walking into a stranger’s home. And then to see the house today….” Her voice trailed off. “Nothing was the same. I feel like a stranger in my own world. I recognize some people, but I have no idea what I might have said to them a week ago. Or what I did last month.” She suddenly made a small sound of horror. “I don’t even want to think I could have a boyfriend who might be away on a business trip.”

“Any men’s clothing in your closet? Men’s toiletries in your bathroom cabinet? Men calling and leaving a message on your answering machine?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t someone in my life.” She picked up the sheaf of papers and made sure they were in a neat pile. “I didn’t look through my PDA or any of my papers to see if a man’s name was mentioned.”

“Janet would have known if there was someone in your life,” he reminded her.

“Yes, that’s true. I didn’t think about that.”

“You’re trying too hard again,” Dylan chided her. “You can’t push it, Alex. You have to let the injury heal on its own. How do you know you won’t make matters worse if you keep on pushing?”

“I keep on pushing because I feel like someone is after me,” Alex argued. “What if it’s true and not just your gut instinct and my own paranoia? There’s no guarantee my memory will ever be totally restored, Dylan. And you shouldn’t feel you have to protect me for the rest of my life if that happens. I know it’s only been a couple of days, but you would think by now I would be able to remember something, no matter how little.” She suddenly snapped her mouth shut as if something had occurred to her.

“What, Alex?” Dylan didn’t miss the fleeting look of panic on her face or how quickly she masked it. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just a bit of a headache,” she said quickly.

He knew a lie the minute he heard one. “You took two aspirin when we stopped to get something to drink.”

“Considering what we just went through, I think I’m allowed to still have a headache,” she snapped, slapping the desktop so hard her notebook computer seemed to tip slightly from side to side and the pile of papers slid off onto the floor, landing by her feet.

“Okay.” He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Okay.” He used the same placating tone he used with surly prisoners. The trouble was, Alex recognized it for what it was and she did not appreciate it.

Her glare cut through him like a white-hot laser. “Do not patronize me,” she said between clenched teeth.

“I’m not patronizing you, Alex.” He worked swiftly to pull himself out of the hole he’d dug for himself. “I understand you’ve been through a lot.” He stepped forward with the intention of picking up the papers for her, but she stopped him with a fierce look that warned of painful retribution if he got any closer. He quickly stepped backward. “I’m sorry.”

“For the hundredth time…” She stopped speaking and stared at him with a glazed look in her eyes.

Dylan felt something cold deep within him. He relaxed a little when she shook her head and seemed to come out of her self-imposed trance.

“What happened?” he asked, using caution instead of his usual forge-ahead personality.

“Nothing. At least nothing happened now. You know, this should have been a quiet day,” Alex murmured. “I’ve read these papers, I realize no one seems odd and can assure you everything is fine from this end.” She bent at the waist and reached down to gather up the papers. “We are no further along than we were when we started.”

“You haven’t read all your notes yet, have you?” he asked. “You never know what you might find.”

Alex carefully put the papers back in order. Dylan didn’t doubt they wouldn’t end up in alphabetical order. She paused in her task and stared off into space.

“Are you sure you didn’t remember something important?”

“I don’t know. For a second I felt as if a memory was trying to wiggle its way through, but I don’t know if it was wishful thinking or something solid.” She offered him a brief smile. “Since it disappeared so quickly, I think it was more wishful thinking.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong, Al,” he said quietly, feeling for her.

“I’ve lost a portion of the past couple of years.” She sounded more frustrated than amused. “I ask for answers, but no one will give them to me.”

Dylan thought of the war they had waged the past couple of years and was silently grateful she wasn’t remembering them. “Who knows, maybe you’re better off not remembering everything. What if there are regrets mixed in there, too?”

“Then I’ll deal with it. It’s not better for me when I feel as if there’s something important hovering on the edge of my memory, but it disappears before I have a chance to catch it.” She brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, then tucked it behind her ear.

“The brain is a tricky part of the body,” he said, fearing he sounded like a medical textbook for dummies.

Alex rolled her eyes. “That sounds like something a doctor would say.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Nope. I still can’t stand the sight of blood. Trouble is, a doctor isn’t here to remind you what you should and shouldn’t do. All considering, I think you’re handling this whole situation pretty well,” he said. “If it had been me who woke up with a Swiss-cheese memory, I’d probably be punching holes in the walls.”

She smiled briefly. “How flattering. You’d wake up thinking we were still married and you’d want to damage a wall.”

Dylan’s gaze drifted in her direction. Alex’s body was so still in her chair she could have been a statue. He knew even if she sat that quietly, her brain was still moving at warp speed. He guessed she was busy looking at her problem from all angles until the right solution presented itself to her.

He wondered what would happen once she recovered her memory. Would it give them the answers they needed to explain the reason behind the attack on her? Or would they end up with even more questions that could have them searching in an entirely different direction?

He realized he was seeing the beginnings of a whole new Alex. He realized she was a softer, more approachable woman than the one he’d known.

God help him, if he wasn’t careful he could fall for her all over again. But what would happen if—when—she woke up one day and remembered everything?

Including the fact that they’d pretty much grown to despise each other.

He couldn’t afford to get his heart stomped on again. He’d picked up the pieces and gone on with his life. He knew everyone thought he was a player. That he dated lots of women. He dated, sure, but not all that many. He wasn’t about to fall into the dark hole he had with Alex.

Better to remain alone than go through that pain again.

“Do you have it?” he asked, not bothering with a greeting.

“I really think we gotta get out of here, boss,” the caller said.

His patience with these men was waning quickly. “That is not what I asked you, Leonard.”

“She saw us. She knows what we look like.” The man’s voice carried the same icy lack of emotion that his employer’s did, even if there was a hint of urgency coloring his words.

“Tell me you have retrieved my property.” He leaned forward in his chair. The long silence from the other end was his answer.

“We haven’t been able to get into her condo after you gave us her address. There’re all sorts of maintenance crews around there, plus a cop hanging around her place,” the man explained. “But nothing matters except us getting out of here as soon as possible. She saw us, boss! I didn’t think she got a look at us that night, but she must have.”

His mind worked swiftly. “When did this happen?”

“Late this morning. We was—were—getting something to eat. She saw us and must have told the cop with her. He tried chasing us but we got away,” he said proudly.

“So he knows what kind of car you drive?” He closed his eyes, imagining a painful punishment for his incompetent employees. The men may have performed flawlessly in the past, but they had let him down this time. He didn’t appreciate any mistakes.

“It won’t do him any good. We went by a shopping center and swapped license plates with a car like ours.”

“You fools!” he exploded. “Get rid of it immediately. But drive to another town and do it there. Do not waste any time and get it done tonight. Find a large shopping mall and do it there. Make sure you wipe the car down entirely. Inside and out. Have it washed before you abandon it. Even better if you could find a deep lake to drive it into.” If I am lucky, you’ll go with the car.

“Tonight?” he protested.

“You heard me. Get rid of it right away,” he ordered. “So far the police haven’t shown up here, so he must not have seen your license plate, but we can’t afford to take any chances. I refuse to be taken down because you couldn’t handle one simple task.”

“You know what we’ll have to do to get another car.”

“Knowing your skills I am certain you can find something else. And if you do happen to be arrested, just make sure my name does not come into any of this. The consequences of such an action would be very high.” He disconnected the call.

Chapter 7

Alex wondered what had happened in the last few minutes to change Dylan’s attitude toward her. Before she could ask him if something was wrong, he murmured he had calls to make and turned away. She nodded and watched him leave the room before she returned to her reading. The papers felt cool to the touch under her fingertips. She wondered if one of the pages would hold the answers she needed. She put the pages she had already read to one side.

“I have very boring clients who live very self-involved, boring lives and apparently have a boring, self-involved attorney,” she murmured. “All these people worry about are their investments, their collections of rare porcelain or paintings or ancient pottery or—” she wrinkled her nose “—Victorian erotica. Okay, not all of them are boring.” She set the papers down and looked off into the distance, tapping her fingers on the desk’s surface. “I’m not even sure what I’m looking for. I should have read more detective novels. Or maybe I have read some and just don’t remember them.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk as she rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “Maybe I’m going crazy and imagined that man was the one who attacked me. Maybe he didn’t look at me as if he recognized me. Maybe it was someone I met in the past two years. Or maybe it was the sun shining on the window. Maybe, maybe, maybe!” In her agitation she rubbed the delicate skin of her temples so hard the skin reddened. The longer she thought about it, the more uncertain she felt about what she thought she’d seen. She lifted her head when she heard a faint voice coming from the other room.

She cocked her head to one side to hear better as bits and pieces of a conversation drifted back to her. When she heard her name spoken, she quickly rose from her chair and crept toward the door.

“No, it wasn’t her imagination,” she heard Dylan argue. “Well, of course she still doesn’t remember anything, but I told you that. The guy recognized her, he panicked and he took off. You want to tell me why an innocent guy would take off?” He paused, obviously listening.

Alex silently eased her way out of her office and down the hallway. When she looked around the corner she saw Dylan in the living room, walking back and forth behind the couch. The dark expression on his face boded ill for whomever he was talking to. She’d bet good money it was Detective Alan Whitmire.

“You and I both know that unless they’re incredibly stupid they probably stole a car instead of renting one that could lead back to them,” he said. He waited as if listening to the person on the other end. “You think what? Give me a break! You talked to her more than once. You know as well as I do that Alex doesn’t have one hysterical bone in her body. Whatever those bastards want they haven’t gotten yet and who knows what they’ll try next.” He remained silent for a moment. “Fine. I’m going to do what I can here to find the mystery object and you do whatever you have to do.” He slapped his phone shut. “Idiot,” he muttered, stalking into the kitchen with Clarence trotting after him. Alex heard the click of a cabinet door opening, then the rustle of a bag being opened. She guessed he’d found the bag of cat treats.

Alex smiled. She knew Dylan believed her, but it was nice to hear him tell someone the same thing.

She knew they were working together as a team, and now she felt it even more. It was a good feeling.

Alex picked up the papers and returned to her reading with a new purpose.

When she finished, she jotted down her impressions on a separate sheet of paper, then took the other papers and locked them in the bottom drawer of her desk.

When she went searching for him, she found him on the balcony with Clarence draped languidly across the back of a chair, avidly looking for any unwary bird who might stop by.

Dylan looked over his shoulder as he gestured outward. “Not bad digs at all,” he commented. “You’ve got well-lit trails for walking or running, tennis courts, swimming pool and fitness center. Pretty much everything you need is right here without you leaving home. I bet your maintenance fees are high for that privilege, too.” His gaze dropped down and he noticed the sheet of paper she held in one hand. “All finished?”

Alex nodded, and she walked over and dropped into the chair next to his. “I didn’t read one word that would indicate one of my clients would have any reason to attack me.”

“Except these are people you don’t remember,” he reminded here. “All you have to go on are your perceptions on paper.”

She smiled. “And you always said I had a good sense about people. Reading about them gives me a sense of who they are.”

“In my world it’s called investigation,” he said, stretching out his legs and propping his feet up on the balcony railing. “You sometimes check out leads that don’t even sound credible because you never know if that’s the all-important clue.”

Her smile was heartwarming. “It’s nice to know you believed me when I didn’t have much to go on today.”

“There was no doubt in my mind, Alex. I trust your senses. Maybe you lost parts of your memory, but you didn’t lose your common sense,” he stated. His eyes darkened as his gaze roamed over her face. “I just wish we’d caught up with them. They could have told us why they’re going after you.”

Alex knew how she felt the night she was attacked, but until now she hadn’t realized just how much Dylan had been shaken up. She leaned over and grasped his hand. She smiled as he laced his fingers through hers and kept her hand resting on his thigh. She felt the warmth of his skin through the material of his slacks.

“Any thoughts, Detective, on the why part?” she whispered.

“Most logical is you picked up something that belongs to one of your clients. It probably happened on the last day. Otherwise, you would have ended up with a trashed hotel room because they would have looked for it before you left the city.”

“This sounds more like a spy drama.”

He nodded. “It would be a good reason for someone to come after you. You have any theories?”

Alex thought about it for several minutes. “It would be logical if I accidentally picked up something that could prove dangerous to a client, and that client would do whatever it took to get it back. Which means it must be illegal, since if it was an honest mistake that person would merely call my office, explain the error and I would look for whatever it was.” She stopped and winced.

“What’s wrong?” Dylan leaned over.

She started to shake her head, then thought better of it before she completed the action. “Just a sharp pain in my head.” She closed her eyes as if it would keep the pain at bay. “Maybe that means I’m on the right track.”

“Okay, enough for now,” he said with frustration coloring his voice.

Alex silently blessed him. She knew he was eager to figure out who and why, but he could tell they weren’t going any further just now. She was just as impatient to solve more of the puzzle, but she sensed the pain was a reminder not to push too fast. She was finally beginning to listen to her body.

If she didn’t know better she’d swear his smile held a hint of sorrow. “You’re a tough lady, Alex. If it doesn’t come back, you’ll handle it, and if it does, well, you’ll know what to do then, too. You just have to know your brain will give you the information you need when it’s ready. Not when you’re ready.”

She wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by telling her she would know what to do when her memory came back, but she sensed he wasn’t ready to explain his cryptic statement. As he said, she would just have to wait.

Alex mulled over Dylan’s advice as she went into her bedroom and prepared for bed. She knew his suggestion about being patient was a good one, but there was one problem—she wasn’t a tolerant person.

She’d always thought she had good instincts about people. Boy, was she proved wrong! First with Dylan, now with this new situation that could ultimately ruin her career if it got out. Sure, the guy gave her the creeps, but that didn’t mean he was, well, what he was.

The sound was her first warning as she turned and something struck her on the head. She opened her mouth to scream but had no idea if any sound escaped.

“No!” Alex shot straight up. What felt like fear raced throughout her body as she fought to regain control of the dark fears threatening to take over her brain.

“What happened?” Dylan ran into the bedroom with his weapon in his hand. He slammed the light switch by the door before he headed for the window, but he found it still closed. He turned back to her. “You were screaming. What happened?”

She placed her hands protectively against her throat as she rocked back and forth, struggling for much-needed oxygen. “I can’t breathe!” she wheezed. “I can’t breathe!” She looked up wild-eyed at him while tears streamed down her cheeks.

He took quick note of the situation. “Everything will be fine, Alex. I’ll be right back.”

Panicking once again, Alex cried out his name and put up her hand, imploring him to stay. In response, he wrapped his arms around her, protecting her.

It took a few moments for Alex’s panic to subside. She was aware of the warmth of Dylan’s hand as he gently rubbed the length of her spine in soothing strokes.

“Since your window isn’t open or broken, I can only guess you had a nightmare,” he said.

She started to nod, then stopped. “Could I have a glass of water, please?” she whispered, wiping away her tears with the backs of her fingers.

“Sure.” He stood up and headed for the kitchen.

The minute he was gone, she reached inside her night table drawer and pulled out her journal and a pen. She thumbed to the rear of the book until she found blank pages. Afraid of forgetting what she dreamed she quickly wrote down the details, then tore the paper out of the journal, replacing the book in the drawer. She noted her hands were shaking.

“Here you go.” Dylan appeared in front of her, holding out a glass as he sat down next to her. She nodded her thanks as she drank deeply. When she finished, he took the glass from her and set it on the night table. “Do you remember what your nightmare was about?”

Alex nodded. “It’s not something I’d like to remember. I think I dreamed about my attack.” She kept her gaze downcast. By looking at the floor she found it easier to relate what haunted her sleep. “At least it seemed like it.”

“What did you see?” His stroking her back soothed her shaky thoughts.

She studied her hands as she twisted them in her lap. “It was more like what I sensed. It was dark and I was too caught up in what I was thinking.”

“Do you have any idea what you were thinking?”

She unfolded her piece of paper and looked down at the words she’d written down. “I was angry about something. I don’t know if it was something I learned or overheard or read. But whatever it was I felt it was serious enough to ruin my career. I heard a sound, as if someone had kicked a stone and it was skipping across the asphalt. I turned around, felt pain and then nothing. Then I woke up.” She sighed. “That wasn’t much help, was it?”

He pondered her words. “Everything you remember can get us a little further.”

Alex kept staring at the paper as if the answers would suddenly appear before her. “Smoke,” she said abruptly.

He looked up. “Smoke? As in fire?”

“No, as in cigarettes.” She turned around, drawing one leg up under her. Her knee gently bumped his thigh as she shifted her body. “The man who hit me was a smoker. He reeked of cigarette smoke.”

“A smoker.” Dylan nodded.

“I need to look through my briefcase and suitcase to see if there’re any papers there that don’t belong to me.” She touched his arm and stopped.

Dylan’s wearing fire-engine red boxers! He never wore boxers before. He always wore briefs. And when did boxers get so sexy?

She tried to sort through her muddled thought processes. Bad dream. Red boxer shorts. Feeling scared. Dylan in those red boxer shorts comforting her. Maybe seeing her attacker in her dream. Dylan out of those red boxers. She wished she hadn’t drunk all her water. Some of that ice-cold liquid splashed on her hot face would feel good about now.

She determinedly kept her gaze on his chest, then realized it wasn’t a good idea, since it was bare and nicely defined.

Alex was positive her fingers still remembered every inch of Dylan’s taut skin. She seriously thought about exploring the warm texture, but settled for inhaling his woodsy scent. Once upon a time they wouldn’t have been sitting here talking. Instead, Dylan would be doing his best to get her out of her nightgown and under the covers.

“Alex.” Gentle fingers grasped her chin and lifted her face. Dylan’s concern was written on his face. “Are you okay?”

I want you to hold me. The plea in her head headed straight for her lips and almost escaped. It took great effort for her to hold the words back. Logically, she knew she didn’t want Dylan’s comfort because he felt sorry for her. If she ended up in his arms it would be because he wanted to hold her. She felt a sudden wave of incredible loneliness wash over her as she realized that wasn’t to be. They were divorced now. For all she knew he had a woman in his life who meant something to him.

“I didn’t expect to have such a startling dream,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I didn’t expect to relive that night. The detail might not have been perfect, but the shock was very real.”

“It could have been a reaction to the chase today, and then your reading your client notes, with the intent of looking for the worst, triggered the nightmare,” he said quietly, lifting his hand to trace the curve of her cheek with the back of his fingers. She resisted the urge to close her eyes and lean into his caress with the hope it would lead to more. “If you weren’t still on pain pills I’d suggest you have a glass of wine to help you relax.”

“I didn’t take any of my pain medication tonight. I don’t like the way it makes me feel,” she said. But if she’d known she would go to bed and have a nightmare she would have done everything she could to stay awake. “Now I’m glad I didn’t take anything. I might have had a more difficult time waking up.” She shuddered. “Although I guess my screaming like a banshee would have done the trick.” She grimaced. “Since no one’s pounding on the door, I guess I wasn’t screaming as loud as I thought I was.”

“Oh, I don’t know. You got my attention,” Dylan said lightly, in an obvious attempt to lighten the moment. He looked down and absently rubbed her knuckles with his thumb. “If you had dreamed longer you might have seen his face.”

“Except it’s obvious I didn’t see his face when it happened and I didn’t see his face now.” She followed his action and looked down to watch his fingers moving over hers. Dylan had rarely touched her since he picked her up at the emergency room. She found the lack of contact hurtful even if she reminded herself they were divorced and she didn’t recall all the details. “If I had seen his face, he would have tried harder to come after me, wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t want me identifying him.” A germ of an idea lit up inside her mind. “What if he thought I knew what he looked like? What if he thought I recognized him today when I saw him, even though it’s more a feeling I have than actually recognition? It was as if a switch was flipped on and I instinctively knew I was looking at someone I somehow knew but couldn’t put a place or name to it.”

“If he wasn’t the one who attacked you he wouldn’t have reacted the way he did,” Dylan said.

“We have the assumption that this man and whoever was with him are looking for something, but we can’t seem to get any further. Another barrier.” She blinked rapidly.

“Hey.” Dylan tipped his head to look into her down-turned face. “Don’t cry, Alex. We’ll get through this just fine. You have my word on it.”

She shook her head. “Don’t worry, I won’t cry.” She felt the warmth of his fingertips against her skin. For a moment she visualized her taking control of the moment by falling back on the covers and pulling Dylan down with her. His red boxers would slide off very easily and she knew she could get rid of her nightgown in seconds. That was one area in their marriage they had no problem with. A powerful sense of need rose up inside her, so strong she felt it clear down to her center. Except she knew it wouldn’t do any good to communicate it to Dylan. She had a pretty good idea he didn’t hold any lingering feelings for her. She now knew that disappointment was a bitter taste.

Dylan stood up and tugged at her hand. “Come on, we both need sleep.” He urged her back into bed and tucked the sheet around her. Once she was settled under the covers, he stretched out next to her and pulled her into his arms, nestling her head in the curve of his shoulder. “Go to sleep, Al,” he murmured. “You won’t have any more nightmares tonight.”

She smiled and closed her eyes. During those fleeting seconds between awareness and sleep, Dylan’s voice using that nickname drifted through her mind. Except when he said it that time his voice was cold and sarcastic. This time she couldn’t hold back her shiver.

Thinking she was resisting sleep because of her nightmare, Dylan tightened his hold on her. She murmured something indistinct as her body eventually relaxed and she fell into a deep sleep.

He’d forgotten how Alex felt in his arms. How her body fit so sweetly around his and seemed to become a part of him.

How often had they fallen asleep just like this? Of course, they had always made love first. They had never been able to keep their hands off each other. His body tightened as he remembered those heat-filled nights.

It had been difficult not to do more than rub Alex’s hands tonight. His first thought had been to offer her another kind of comfort. He wanted to give her the kind of solace where they could lose themselves in each other and forget about what was going on around them.

As he lay back in the bed with Alex asleep in his arms, he inhaled the light jasmine and vanilla powdery fragrance of Donna Karan that wafted off her skin. He wished for those nights again, wondering what would happen if they could go back to that happier time. Would a second chance mean they could avoid the pitfalls they encountered before? If she didn’t regain her memory, who was to say she still wouldn’t revert to the power-hungry lawyer she became toward the end of their marriage? And if she did regain it, well, things would just go back to the way they were.

Alex had broken Dylan’s heart once before. He didn’t intend for it to happen again.

Alex woke up feeling more refreshed than she had in the past few days. The only hint Dylan had shared the bed with her was the dent in the pillow next to hers and the rumpled covers. With a smile on her face she followed faint sounds to the kitchen.

“Do you think Tank will feed us again?” she asked gaily, walking into the kitchen, then stifled a scream as she realized the man standing there wasn’t Dylan.

“Ma’am.” The uniformed patrolman almost choked on the coffee he’d been drinking. “I’m sorry if I scared you. Um, Detective Parker said it was okay if I got some coffee.” He gestured toward the coffee pot while valiantly trying not to make eye contact with her.

Alex then realized her nightgown might fall to her toes, but the semisheer fabric didn’t adequately conceal her body. She almost reached for a dish towel to cover up.

“Would you like some, ma’am?” the officer asked, looking over her right shoulder. “The detective also had me pick up some doughnuts on the way over.” He nodded toward a pink bakery box sitting on the table.

“Yes, on the coffee and donuts, thank you.” She decided it was best to act as if she encountered a strange man in her kitchen every morning. “Where is Detective Parker?”

“He was called in to the station.” The officer seemed relieved to have something to do as he retrieved a mug from the cabinet and filled it with coffee.

She took that moment to escape to her bedroom to find a robe. She returned to find a coffee mug sitting on the table.

“Detective Parker didn’t think you should be here alone, so I was assigned to stay here until he got back.”

“Please, sit down.” She glanced at his nameplate above his badge. “How long have you been on the force, Officer Townsend?”

“A little over a year, ma’am.”

“Call me Alex.” She sipped the liquid, grateful it was hot and bracing. “Was Detective Parker called in because of my case?”

“I don’t know, ma—Ms. Spencer. I was just told to stay here until he got back.” He took the chair across from her, but sat as military straight as he had stood. “The detective said if I answer any questions about your case he’d have my ba—neck.”

She looked down at her mug so he wouldn’t see her smile. She should have known Dylan would cover all his bases. And she had no doubt Dylan would carry through on any punishment he promised the officer for divulging secrets.

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell Detective Parker you were silent as the grave,” she assured him, hopeful he would get the message.

The officer smiled, looking more relaxed than he had since he arrived. “Ms. Spencer, I’ve been married six years now. If my wife can’t get any information out of me, I don’t think you can.”

Alex chuckled. “You can’t blame a lady for trying, Officer Townsend.”

When Dylan let himself into the condo a little while later, he heard laughter coming from the kitchen.

“Damn, she got to him,” he muttered, wasting no time in heading for the kitchen. When he reached the room he found Alex and the officer seated at the table and the bakery box formerly filled with a dozen assorted doughnuts now almost empty. Alex was scribbling away on a legal pad while the officer looked at it from across the table.

She looked up momentarily, then returned to her writing. The officer nodded a greeting.

Dylan glanced in the box. “You couldn’t leave a lemon-filled one?”

“I think there’s still some coffee left.” Alex continued writing. She glanced up and watched him pour coffee. “Officer Townsend was very helpful.”

Dylan froze, then almost overfilled his cup. He swore under his breath and returned the pot to the warming plate. “Really?” He glared at the officer.

“No, sir,” the man hastily assured his superior. “Not what you think.”

Alex held up the paper. “I wanted a list of speed traps, but since he didn’t feel it was right to tell me, I’m being the better person and giving him a little free legal advice instead. The man has three children. He needs some serious estate planning. While it isn’t my expertise, I can offer a few suggestions.”

Dylan stared at the officer, who squirmed under his regard. The man stood up and picked up his mug, then took it to the sink and rinsed it out.

“Thanks, Townsend,” Dylan told the man, while ignoring Alex.

The officer smiled. “Anytime, sir.” He turned to Alex. She smiled and handed him the paper. “Ms. Spencer, it was very nice to meet you.”

Alex waited until she heard the front door open and close.

“I can’t believe what I just saw. I was certain you’d have him saluting you. This isn’t the army, Dylan,” she chided him. “Why were you called into the station? Was it something to do with my case?”

“In a way.” He chose the chair next to her and pulled the bakery box closer, choosing a maple bar. “It seems the owner of a brand-new Lexus walked out of a restaurant last night and discovered someone had stolen one of his vanity license plates and replaced it with a plate that turned out to belong to a ten-year-old Buick.”

Alex’s eyes lit up. “Why do I believe this is leading up to something?”

“Maybe because it is. The Buick has a license plate belonging to an old Chevy Nova belonging to a college student, and the plate on the Nova belonged to…” He waved his hand in a “ta-da!” motion.

“Our Camry!” she shouted.

“Got it in one.” He grinned. “And now it looks like the Camry is carrying a license plate reading HOTBABE, although I’m sure they dumped it by now and just swapped the plates to get them safely out of the area.”

“I would think a car with that vanity plate wouldn’t be too difficult to find.” She set the pad to one side. “Anything else? Maybe the identity of the driver and his cohort?”

He shook his head. “The first swapped plate was in the San Francisco area a few days ago. They wasted no time.”

“So there’s no way to trace them?” Alex asked.

“I doubt we’ll find usable prints, but Forensics down there is going to try. Considering how far back we’ve traced it so far I’d say they made a hobby of it.” He bit into his doughnut. “Plus, the Camry was stolen to begin with.”

“So what you’re really saying is that the hunt for them won’t be easy,” she guessed.

“Pretty much.” Dylan started to pick up the last doughnut, and glanced at Alex, who waved her hand to indicate she didn’t want it. “Swapping license plates is a nightmare for cops as we try to track them down. But you’d think they wouldn’t choose a vanity plate. They’re easier to notice.”

“Unless they don’t care and intend to get rid of the car, anyway.” Alex stood up and walked over to the coffeepot.

Dylan tipped his head to one side and studied her. “You okay after last night?”

Alex thought about it for a moment. She didn’t want to brush off his question with an “of course I am!” when she knew she wasn’t. “When I first woke up I felt this tension,” she said slowly. “I think it was partly due to seeing you gone. I think even then I sensed you weren’t here. Officer Townsend was very nice and managed to help me keep my mind off what happened last night. But I’m glad you’re here.” Her gaze echoed the smile on her lips.

“Just as I’m sure you kept Townsend’s mind off a lot when he got a good look at you first thing.” He grinned. She looked down at her robe, which was buttoned up to her chin, then looked up at him. “You weren’t wearing that robe when you first came out here, were you?”

“I almost screamed. He almost gawked,” she admitted.

“So you put on the robe to make it easy on him.” His grin grew wider at her nod. He shook his head as if he’d just remembered something. “That will teach me to get sidetracked. I picked up some groceries on my way back. Why don’t you get dressed and I’ll bring in the food. I know you had some doughnuts, but you may as well have something halfway healthy, too.”

“Won’t Tank miss us?” she asked.

“He’ll survive.” He stood up. “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

After a quick shower, Alex looked through her dresser drawers and settled on a pair of olive yoga pants and a matching tank top, then pulled her hair up into a ponytail. When she returned to the kitchen she found Dylan standing at the stove. At the sound of her entrance, he looked over his shoulder, appeared a little surprised, then turned back to his cooking.

“My culinary skills still don’t go beyond scrambled eggs and toaster waffles or French toast,” he announced. “But I threw some bacon bits and onions in the eggs and found some honey-wheat bread.”

“I’ll set the table,” she offered, touched he’d remembered her favorite bread after their long separation.

“How about we eat out on the balcony? The table you’ve got out there is big enough for the plates and it’s a lot nicer than eating in here.”

“This is nice,” Alex agreed five minutes later. Mimicking Dylan, she settled her plate on the table and propped her feet up on the railing. As she nibbled on her food, she looked out over the open space that encompassed the complex’s amenities. She frowned as she noticed a fleeting flash coming from the tennis courts. She stared in that direction for a few minutes, but when she didn’t see another flash she decided it was merely her imagination.

“I called in a few favors and was able to get your briefcase and suitcase moved up for processing, and I was able to pick them up for you,” Dylan said, diverting her attention from the area below. “I brought them in when I brought in the groceries.”

Alex dropped her feet to the ground. “That’s wonderful! I need to go through them. Maybe there’s something there I’ll understand that your crime-scene people didn’t.” She started to rise to her feet, but Dylan used one hand to push her back down. “They’re not going anywhere this time around. Finish your breakfast first. Then I’ll help you go through them.”

Alex practically bounced with impatience as she finished her food and carried her plate into the kitchen. She went into the living room and found her suitcase standing by the couch and her briefcase in a nearby chair. She wrinkled her nose as she grew closer to them.

“They were buried in a Dumpster,” Dylan said, coming in behind her. He walked around her and laid the suitcase down for her.

“And they’ll be returning to one.” She sat cross-legged on the floor and unzipped the suitcase, flipping back the top. She moaned in dismay at the pile of clothing that tumbled before her. “As will the contents.” Clarence walked over to the suitcase, took one sniff and ran off. “Even Clarence agrees with my plan. Were they able to find anything?”

“The handles looked like they had been wiped down, but a couple of smudged prints were found on the hinges on your suitcase. So far no hits, but something could still come up. They’re also trying the military database.”

“I’m learning more about forensics than I ever wanted to know,” she muttered.

Dylan sat down next to her. He picked up a creamy lace bra. Alex reached over and snatched it out of his hand.

She pulled out each piece of clothing, checked pockets and set each item aside. She then searched her cosmetic bag and all zippered pockets in the suitcase.

She sighed. “Those perverts pawed through my clothing. I don’t remember purchasing any of this, but that doesn’t mean I still don’t feel…icky.”

“Icky?” Dylan chuckled. “And here I thought you’d use one of your favorite hundred-dollar words.”

Alex froze as a stabbing pain zigzagged through her head.

“Are you okay?” Dylan asked, reaching over to cover her hand with his.

“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “I guess I have to expect this for a while.”

Dylan picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Better?” He raised an eyebrow.

She couldn’t help but smile. “It definitely helps.”

“Better than icky?” he teased.

“Along with what happened making me feel violated and appalled. That’s the best you’ll hear.” She stuck her hands inside each shoe. “Nothing was found?”

“Nothing that looked out of place.” Guessing her frame of mind, Dylan went into the kitchen and came back with a plastic trash bag. He held it open while Alex placed all the contents of her suitcase into the bag.

“I can’t in good conscience give all this to charity,” she said. “They’ve been handled, and who knows what else has been done with them.” She sniffed a couple of times. She looked at her briefcase with a sense of trepidation.

“Any lacy underwear in there, too?” Dylan asked hopefully.

“Of course not! Probably what I always kept in there. My notebook computer, a couple of legal pads, pens, my PDA, my cell phone and lipstick.” She stared at the combination lock.

“Try the combination you’ve always used,” Dylan suggested. “We both know you’re not too original with codes.”

“I’ll ignore that,” she muttered as she lined up the numbers then heard the click of the lock being disengaged. Just as she predicted, the items she mentioned were inside. She grimaced at black fingerprint powder coating the top of her computer and PDA case. She turned on her computer and scrolled through files and did the same with her PDA.

“Try these.” Dylan handed her CDs he found in a side pocket.

“There’s nothing that stands out,” she said, reading the contents of the first CD. “Notes on a meeting with a client about an upcoming court case. Nothing that would warrant him hiring a couple of thugs to steal these notes back from me.” She ejected the CD and inserted the second one. “More of the same.” When Dylan reached for one of the legal pads, she slapped the offending fingers. “Privileged communication, remember? There’s nothing here, either. Now do you see why I couldn’t think any of my clients was behind this?”

“If that’s the case then all we can look for is a disgruntled ex-lover you can’t remember,” Dylan told her. “Janet would know about your past dates, wouldn’t she?”

“Probably.” She rubbed her forehead. She’d hoped her headaches would be gone by now and instead they still grabbed her by surprise. At least the dark purple bruising on her face was starting to lighten a little. She dreaded to think what she would look like when it turned green and yellow.

“Need a pill?” Dylan asked, noting her action.

“No, I need to have my life back again,” she muttered, standing up and picking up her computer. “I need to get something in the office.”

“I’ll take all this out to the trash for you.” He closed up the bag.

Alex nodded and went into her office. She sorted through her files until she found the one she wanted. She opened it and began reading. The hard lump in her stomach seemed to grow with each word she read. By the time she finished reading, her stomach was in so much upheaval she feared she would lose her breakfast.

“Why would I want to deliberately sabotage our marriage? There’s no rhyme or reason to this except for personal comments I’d penciled in about my desire to make partner,” she murmured, carefully lining the papers up in a neat pile and slipping them back into the file folder. She knew she should put it back into the file cabinet before she gave in to her first thought and ran the papers through her paper shredder. A tear slowly ran down her cheek.

“Hey, want to go outside for some fresh air?” Dylan appeared in the doorway. He glanced at her face, then looked down at the file on her desk. He easily guessed the contents. “You just had to know, didn’t you? You couldn’t leave it alone.” He sounded more weary than angry. “Does it make it easier for you, to finally know all the dry legal facts?”

“I was behind it all,” she whispered, feeling the ache grow in her throat until she thought she would choke. “I said counseling was not an option and according to the reports you didn’t fight any of this.” You didn’t love me enough to fight for me. She looked at his face as she shook her head. “It’s like reading about two perfect strangers,” she admitted softly.

Dylan exhaled a deep breath. “Maybe that’s what we are. We’ve both changed over the years, Alex. Maybe that’s what you really need to remember.”

Chapter 8

Dylan silently damned himself for honoring Alex’s privacy. What he should have done was endure her wrath and go through her private files first thing and dig out everything he found pertaining to their divorce. By putting the files out of her reach, he could have put off this time until she could handle it better. Now she’d found some thing she wasn’t ready to deal with.

Except he wasn’t angry with her. If their positions were reversed he would have been just as determined. He doubted he would handle it any better than Alex had, and he knew that even with all her frustration she’d handled her situation pretty well. If he’d answered her questions when she’d first asked him, he might have been able to put a better spin on their divorce, if there was such a thing. By the time it all reached court he and Alex had fought so much that it was amazing their home hadn’t been declared a war zone.

Alex came out of the bedroom wearing a pair of sandals and an olive hoodie over her tank top. She slipped on a pair of sunglasses as Dylan handed her a bottle of water he’d pulled out of the refrigerator, and he followed her out of the condo. He didn’t miss the pallor of her skin, which made her bruises look even darker, and her eyes were slightly red-rimmed.

Side by side they walked around the side of the building, heading for one of the walking and running paths.

“This is pretty nice,” he commented, noticing the wooden benches set up at intervals. “A man-made brook running through, trees planted at random to give it a woodsy feel.” He looked up. “It looks like they set up good lighting for security.” He looked over and noticed Alex paying a great deal of attention to the tennis courts. From what he could tell, no one was out there just now. “Is there a problem?”

“No,” she said hastily. “I’m just looking around.” She flipped up the bottle top and drank. “It is very pretty out here and very peaceful. I’m glad you suggested this. I needed to clear my head,” she murmured.

A comfortable silence stretched between them as they followed one of the trails. Alex noticed that the few people they passed smiled and said hello, but it was an impersonal greeting, not that of someone who might know her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dylan asked quietly.

She wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved he’d finally brought it up or wary of discussing the touchy subject. She took another drink of water in an attempt to hold off answering him right away. But she knew she couldn’t remain silent forever, no matter how badly she wanted to. She looked down at her feet as they walked. It was easier than looking at Dylan. He hadn’t smiled since he’d discovered what she’d done.

“Much of what I read sounded so vicious,” she said slowly. She stopped and walked over to a nearby bench and sat down. She waited until Dylan sat down beside her. “I want you to tell me the truth about something. I don’t want to wait until my memory returns.”

“What do you want to know?” Dylan had the look of a man who wanted to be anywhere but there. He knew he had lost the battle.

Alex took a deep breath, then plunged ahead before she lost her nerve. “Did you have an affair that I found out about? Was that the real reason why I divorced you?” She nearly reared back from his heated and instantaneous response to her question.

“What the…?” Dylan looked as if he’d been sucker punched. All color drained from his face, which turned his eyes the color of burned charcoal. As if he couldn’t bear to look at her, he turned away and stared unseeing off into the distance. The fury in his body literally rolled off him as he struggled to contain the temper that was threatening to erupt. “You know, of all things I thought you might ask me, that hadn’t even come to mind.” His quiet voice was frightening. His jaw worked furiously as he fought to keep his temper under control. “I know you don’t remember all the details back then, but after the past few days I can’t believe you would even think such a thing.”

Alex knew her memory was nonexistent where the end of their marriage was concerned, but instinctively she knew she had never seen Dylan lose his temper. She feared this was about to change. She rested her hand on his arm and found the muscles tight under her fingers, but he didn’t move away from her or shrug her off.

“You have to understand that I remember nothing of that time,” she appealed to him. “When I read the file, all I read about was anger. I thought the worst without truly thinking it through. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “We might have had our problems, but infidelity wasn’t one of them. It seemed our problems were put on hold any time we were in the bedroom. Maybe that’s why things turned so bad. We never took the time to talk anything out. We thought sex would settle things, but it never did.”

Alex looked at the dark storm in Dylan’s eyes and hated that she was the one to put it there. She felt downright miserable. “I’m sorry, Dylan, I should have realized my question would upset you.”

“Upset me?” he repeated. “Think back, Alex. From what you remember of our marriage, how could you honestly think I had cheated on you?”

“No, I don’t.” She felt heat simmering deep within her as she sifted through her known memories of what she and Dylan had shared. “I’m still trying to figure all this out, and the only way I could do it was to look at every angle so I could better comprehend it.” A tear slowly made its way down her cheek.

At the sight of that tear Dylan felt his anger subside a little bit. “Did you really think reading the paperwork would bring your memory back? Did it make you feel any better to read a bunch of legalese?” He dug into his back pocket, pulled out a crumpled tissue and handed it to her. She smiled her thanks and dabbed at her eyes.

“I went back and forth about reading it. I wanted to know, but I didn’t want to know that way. Then I guess I convinced myself that if I did read it, everything would come flooding back.” She delicately blew her nose. Alex sighed. “I don’t like having a part of my life missing. I feel as if I’ve lost control.”

“You have lost control.” She winced at his ruthless statement. “So you have to do things differently for a while. Think about it as a change for the better, as the perfect excuse for not remembering something or someone. You literally can’t remember,” he gently teased.

She wanted to ask him if there could be a second chance for her. “Maybe it’s significant that I only remember the good parts of our marriage,” she said.

Dylan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, rolling his water bottle between his palms. “Maybe it is.”

Alex crumpled the tissue in her hand until it resembled a small paper ball and smiled wryly. “Now I understand the look on your face when you came to the emergency room.”

“I thought one of my so-called buddies had set me up for a practical joke,” he explained. “I didn’t expect to see you looking as if a truck ran over you.” His fingers tightened around his water bottle.

“Considering our past I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d left me there. I owe you a great deal of thanks,” she said softly. “I release you from bodyguard duty.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Alex, as long as those guys are out there. I don’t want you to be afraid of anything.”

“I’m not afraid,” she insisted, but her protest fell a bit flat. She started to reach out to him, then held back. Dylan took her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. He leaned back against the bench and lifted his face to the morning sun.

“Then let’s just sit here and enjoy the morning,” he said.

Alex closed her eyes and allowed the warmth of the sun to wash over her face, and listened to the distant plop of a tennis ball hitting a racket and the hum of faint voices coming from the tennis court. Her eyes popped open.

Dylan opened an eye. “Can’t relax?”

“I feel that I should be doing something even if it’s just walking.”

“That’s why you need to sit here and veg a little,” he told her. “Just close your eyes and be one with nature.”

She burst out laughing. “That sounds like something from a yoga class.”

“Oh, yeah, me pretending I could bend myself into a pretzel. Wouldn’t that be a sight?” He chuckled. “No thanks, I’m sticking with softball and basketball. Manly sports,” he intoned in a deep voice.

“Stop it!” Alex hit him with her water bottle. Her laughter turned into an unladylike snort.

Dylan choked. “Hey! That’s assault on a police officer.” He grabbed at her bottle but she held it out of his reach. “We’re talking an arrestable offense.”

“Arrestable? Really? We’re talking handcuffs and mug shots and fingerprints?”

“And strip search,” he said, leaning over her as she leaned backward, keeping her arm out over her head. “So hand over your weapon.”

Alex realized that their position had Dylan draped over her, chest to breast, hips to hips. She started to shift her body, then realized her movement had caught his attention. She froze.

Dylan seemed to hold his breath as he looked down at her. She felt his breath warm on her lips, as if he had whispered a kiss across them. The longing for the real thing welled up inside her.

“Dylan?” Alex whispered. “If we stay like this for too long we’ll attract attention.”

“Yeah, well, if I get up too soon I’ll attract even more attention,” he muttered. “Just wait a second.” He inhaled deeply a few times.

Alex shifted her body to relieve the strain on her lower back.

“Dammit, Alex! Don’t move!” he ordered between clenched teeth. A moment later, he backed away. He didn’t look at her as he swallowed the last of his water. “Sorry about that.”

She turned sideways and drew her legs up, wrapping her arms around her knees. “Sorry as Dylan, the ex-husband, or sorry as Dylan, the detective-slash-bodyguard?”

“Probably both.” He stood up and held out his hand. “Let’s see how we finish this walk.”

Alex placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet. A flash of light near the tennis courts caught her attention.

“Do you see something?” Dylan asked.

She hesitated. “A couple of times I’ve seen what looks like the sun bouncing off something by the tennis courts,” she replied. “Maybe it’s just a piece of glass.”

He looked over in that direction. “But you don’t think so.”

“I’ve gotten too suspicious lately.” She continued looking down the path, then turned to Dylan with a silent plea.

“Okay, we’ll check it out right now. Think you can find the exact spot?” he asked.

“Pretty sure.” She started walking back the way they came. As they walked, Alex swung her gaze between the tennis courts and the building that held her condo. The closer they drew to the courts, she started looking upward, counting off balconies until she found hers. “Around here,” she said, veering off to the side and walking over to the row of shrubbery that surrounded the courts. She stared at the shrubbery, then up at the building. “Here, I think.”

Dylan nodded and moved in for a closer look but kept his feet on the path. Alex stood behind him, looking over his shoulder.

“Do you see footprints or a gum wrapper or monogrammed cigarette case that can be traced back to its owner?” she asked.

He glanced at her. “We’re not Nick and Nora Charles, Alex.”

She shook her head in confusion. “Who?”

“We really must talk about your education regarding the cinema’s most famous amateur detectives.” He carefully pushed aside one bush to look behind it. “Hello.”

“What? What did you find?” She stood up on her tiptoes to get a better look at whatever he found.

“Footprints that don’t look like they’d belong to the maintenance workers.”

“How do you know that?” She almost rested her chin on his shoulder.

“These look more like footprints belonging to hard-soled shoes, not work boots a gardener would wear.” He looked at the fence and beyond. “Our best bet is to head back to the balcony and see if you see that flash of light from here again. Then we’ll see what we find.”

Alex warmed at his use of “we.”

“What if I got out more? If these men are still around they’d follow us, right? And you’d have a chance to catch them and find out what they want from me,” she suggested.

“What I would do is turn them over to Whitmire since he’s in charge of this case,” Dylan said, starting back to the building. “I can’t imagine anyone would be dumb enough to stay out here for too long. The security lights are placed close enough together that it isn’t easy for anyone to remain unnoticed.”

When they entered the condo, Alex noticed her voice-mail-message light blinking on her phone. She picked it up and pressed for messages.

“Good thing Janet listed all my passwords,” she murmured, punching in a code. She jotted down notes on a pad by the phone and hung up. “Janet wants me to call her. A few of my clients are demanding to see me,” she explained, punching out the office number, then Janet’s extension number. “Hi, Janet, it’s me.” She picked up her notepad and walked over to a chair.

“We have four clients who won’t be put off,” her assistant informed her. “They’re not interested in my explanation you were in an accident.”

“Are any of these people in the paperwork I looked at the other day?” Alex glanced at Dylan, who was stretched out on the couch with a happy Clarence curled up on his stomach, purring like a well-tuned engine.

“All of them. Is that a problem?” Janet gave Alex the names.

Alex made a face. “These are all clients I’ve picked up within the past two years.” She made eye contact with Dylan again.

“I used the story you asked me to. That you had been in an accident and were out on medical leave. I referred the troublemakers to Will’s office. But none of them want to talk to Will, they want to talk to you.”

“Just a minute, Janet.” She covered the receiver and relayed the news to Dylan. “If one of them is involved, they could be calling to keep the heat off them.”

“Keep the heat off?” he repeated with a chuckle as he rubbed the cat behind his ears. “Yep, I really need to work on your cop education.”

“Janet, just be firm and tell them I’m still under a doctor’s care. Tell them I’m very sorry about this but it can’t be helped. If any of them act out of the ordinary, please let Dylan know right away. You have his cell-phone number, right?”

“Yes, but what do you consider out of the ordinary? Yelling at me? Crying because you can’t look over a new contract? You’ve always been available to them so they don’t know how to act without you.”

“I’m sorry about all this, Janet, but we both know I couldn’t be effective for them.” Alex closed her eyes and thought for a moment. “Do me a favor and e-mail me a list of who called and what their problems are.”

“You’re thinking it’s one of them, aren’t you?”

“I can’t afford to overlook anything. If anyone we don’t know comes in asking for me, write down a description along with the name, please.”

“So far it’s only been present clients, but I’ll alert Reception. Are you doing all right? Have you remembered anything?”

“Not really,” Alex replied, looking around at a room she still didn’t remember and at an ex-husband she did. He looked inquiringly at her. “Is there anything else I should know?”

“Nothing that matters. Does this mean I’ll see a nice bonus this year?”

“I could say yes and when my memory comes back I won’t remember I said yes, will I?” she teased. “Is there anything else?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay. Call me if anything else important comes up.”

“Pushy clients?” Dylan asked when Alex finished her call.

“Not just pushy clients, but pushy clients I don’t remember,” she said. “Janet’s going to e-mail me the details. Maybe something will sound familiar. I’ll tell you what I can after I read it over.”

“Which will be next to nothing.” He picked up a throw pillow and wedged it behind his head.

Alex jumped up and began pacing back and forth. “I can’t just stay here and do nothing. I’m not used to all this inactivity.”

For a split second Dylan thought of an activity that could take up most of the day and be enjoyable for the both of them.

Down, boy! He silently ordered his libido. Not a good time to be thinking about this. Then he noticed the way her breasts seemed to brush against the soft fabric of her top and how the end of her ponytail brushed the top of her shoulders. And the way her thighs were outlined by the clingy pants. Yep, definitely time to get out of here again!

“If you think you remember what that driver looks like we can go down to the station where you can talk to our sketch artist,” Dylan offered as a diversion. “We probably should have done it right after we lost the driver.”

“I’ll be back in a minute.” She disappeared into her bedroom and reappeared five minutes later with a fresh coat of peach gloss on her lips. “I’m ready.” She wasted no time picking up her purse and sunglasses.

Dylan, who had been prepared to wait a minimum of half an hour for Alex to apply makeup and change into something more appropriate, looked up, surprised. He picked up Clarence and set him on the end of the couch. “Aren’t you going to change first?”

She looked down at herself. “Why? Everything’s still clean.” She checked herself again. “Not what I normally wear in public?”

“To yoga class, but that’s it.”

“I’m changing,” Alex said, hearing a new firmness in her voice as she walked to the door. “And it’s not my clothes, either.”

Dylan admired the gentle sway of her trim hips as she walked. “Fine by me,” he murmured. “Change is a good thing.”

As they walked down to his truck, Dylan kept a close eye on their surroundings. He didn’t feel as if they were in danger, but he did feel as if they were being observed.

Alex was surprising him by the minute. Even if they hadn’t really talked during the past two years, he knew Alex wouldn’t have left home in such casual clothing unless she was heading for her yoga class. Not to mention she would have worn more makeup than lip gloss.

“Could we stop for an iced mocha-mint-chip frappuccino on the way?” she asked, looking over her shoulder as they descended the stairs.

Dylan smiled. “Your wish is my command.”

Soon Alex was ensconced at the sketch artist’s desk, where he patiently had her repeat what she remembered. She was able to give him a fairly accurate description of the man she’d seen.

“He doesn’t look familiar to me, which means he’s not local,” Detective Whitmire said, studying the final sketch. “But I’ll see what I can do.” His head snapped up at the rude slurping sound of a straw sucking up the last of an iced cappuccino.

“Sorry.” Alex offered an apologetic smile. She dropped her empty cup in the wastebasket.

“How did you manage to do this in just a few days?” Detective Whitmire asked Dylan under his breath so Alex wouldn’t overhear.

“Do what?”

“According to her coworkers, Ms. Spencer is known to be a very detail-oriented, extremely conservative woman.” He made a slight gesture with his hand in Alex’s direction. “Someone who believes in making a good impression at all times.”

Dylan shrugged. “It’s Casual Friday.”

Detective Whitmire ground his teeth. “I don’t know how Detective Dante can work with you.”

“She’s reforming me. Will you call me if you get a hit on that sketch?”

“Sure.”

Dylan looked over at Alex. “I’ve got to see the lieutenant for a moment, then I’ll be right back.”

She nodded.

When Dylan walked into his superior’s office he found the man giving him a look that didn’t bode well for him.

“You left a message that you wanted to see me, sir.” He didn’t have a good feeling about this meeting.

“I understand Ms. Spencer saw the man she believed to be the one who attacked her and she provided us with a description. And that when she saw this man you gave chase.”

“Yes, sir.” Dylan shifted from one foot to the other.

“Even with our having a description, there still isn’t enough to pursue this case much more,” he said.

“Then I want to take some of my vacation time,” Dylan said instantly. “I’m not going to leave her alone, Lieu.”

Lieutenant Adams smiled. “Now, how did I know you’d say that? You realize if you’re taking vacation time you’re officially off duty?”

“I can work with that.” Dylan nodded as he stood up and left the office.

He found Alex tense when he returned to her. He didn’t need to be a mind reader to know she was eager to get out of there.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as they walked out of the station.

She shook her head. “I listened to them talk about how cases can’t be solved after what seems like a short period of time and it’s frustrating.”

“Forty-eight hours and a case starts getting cold unless evidence comes up,” he admitted. “It’s pretty standard.”

“Not when you’re talking about my safety!” she shouted at him, suddenly hitting him with her purse. She spun on her heel and stalked off.

It took Dylan a second to register that Alex’s temper was flaring hot. Knowing he was putting himself in danger’s way, he quickly ran to catch up. “What do you think you’re doing?” He grasped her arm and spun her around.

“Let go of me!” She batted him with her hands. Her cheeks were flushed with temper while her entire body was strung tighter than a violin. She looked ready for a good old-fashioned fight.

“You can’t be out here alone.” The minute the words left his mouth he knew he was in big trouble.

Alex narrowed her eyes to fiery green slits. “Guess what, Parker, I was fully able to take care of myself just fine before you came along and I obviously have done it for the past two years. Go back and tell the lieutenant he’s welcome to you. This puppy is doing this her way.” She turned and started to walk off, but Dylan grabbed her arm again and pulled her back to him. “I said let me go!”

Dylan’s temper flared up just as quickly. “Right, Alex, you’ve done such a good job of taking care of yourself that someone’s after you for something you can’t even remember. It’s that kind of thinking that gets people killed!”

She breathed deeply, but there was no way she was keeping her temper in check. “You told me to make a choice and I did.”

The barb hit its mark with deadly accuracy. She could tell by the tightening of his lips. Even if she didn’t remember the origin of the line, he did. Then just as quickly, he reverted to cop mode. “So help me, Alex, if I have to put you in handcuffs and haul you back there, I will.”

“You can’t do that.”

“It’s called protective custody.” He spat out the words.

“And I’ll just call Will to free me,” she threatened. She leaned in until her nose almost touched his. “Now I get it. No wonder we got divorced. It was all you, wasn’t it? You and your ‘I am in charge, listen to me’ mentality. I don’t need you! I can take care of myself just fine, thank you very much.” She wrenched herself free from his hold and stepped off the curb.

Within a split second the sound of a car engine revving registered in Dylan’s mind. He reached out and yanked Alex back at the same time as a car horn sounded just before it raced past.

Alex’s breasts were flattened against Dylan’s chest as he held her tightly with one arm wrapped around her waist. The roaring in her ears didn’t allow her to hear anything except the rapid thump of her heart, echoed by the racing beat of Dylan’s pulse.

“So help me, Alex, if you have an accident I will drop you like a stone,” he said in a ragged breath that revealed exactly how shaken up he was. “Take a deep breath, then another.” He waited while she followed his instructions.

Alex trembled with fear. “I could have been killed,” she whispered. “If you hadn’t grabbed me, that car would have hit me!”

“Any chance you saw the license plate?” he asked.

“I was too busy watching my life flash before my eyes. Um, Dylan.” She lowered her voice. “You can let go of me right now. People are looking.”

He slowly lowered her until her feet touched the ground. He still kept a light grip on her arm until he knew she wasn’t going to keel over.

“Is she all right?” a woman asked with a cell phone up to her ear.

“She’s fine,” Dylan said, not taking his eyes off Alex’s paler-than-normal features.

“Maybe I should call the police,” the woman offered. “That idiot didn’t even slow down!”

“I am the police.” He turned to show her his shield clipped to his belt.

The woman nodded and moved on, continuing with her phone conversation. “You’ll never imagine what just happened!” could be heard as she walked away.

“At least I won’t end up on the late-night news.” Alex gulped. “I really need to sit down,” she whispered.

Dylan looked around until his gaze lit on a familiar structure. “Come on.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him.

The minute she realized where he was going, Alex dug in her heels. “We can’t go in there!”

“Why not?” He continued walking, which meant so did she.

“Because I’m not properly dressed to go inside,” Alex argued.

Dylan rolled his eyes. “Last I looked they don’t have a dress code, Al.”

“But they also don’t expect anyone to show up wearing what I am.”

He stopped and took an extra-long look at her, beginning at the top of her head and ending up at her bare toes. By the time he finished, Alex felt a simmering heat on every part of her body his gaze had lingered over. She shifted from one foot to the other.

“Trust me, you look fine,” he said huskily, turning and taking the last steps that took them inside Dante’s Café.

Dylan’s smile at the waitress was returned full force. She registered disappointment when he veered left into the bar. Due to the early hour only two customers were in there, making use of a corner table that didn’t afford a lot of light. Dylan hazarded a guess that the cozy couple were married and probably not to each other. Instead of choosing one of the other tables that would have afforded them privacy, he headed straight for the bar.

“Hey, barkeep, can we have two strong coffees with a whiskey chaser?” he greeted the bartender as he guided Alex onto one stool and took the one next to her.

Celeste Dante lifted an eyebrow. “Isn’t it a bit early for the hard stuff?” She then noticed Alex, especially the dazed look in her eyes, and wasted no time filling two cups with coffee and topping them off with a healthy measure of brandy. “What happened?”

“Alex didn’t follow the rules taught to her since childhood. Namely, look both ways before you cross the street. Some idiot almost ran her over,” he said tersely.

“That’s right. Dylan did say you were married to Luc Dante,” Alex said, needing to latch on to anything that smacked of normalcy.

“Yes, I am. I work here sometimes on my day off. This way I can keep an eye on hubby.” She grinned. “There’s nothing like knowing your wife, who’s armed and dangerous, is in the next room to keep you on your best behavior.”

“Yeah, like he’d ever stray.” Dylan grinned.

Alex sipped her coffee and coughed as the brandy burned its way down her throat. “Are you sure there’s any coffee in here?” she gasped as Dylan pounded her on the back.

“There’s enough in there for it to qualify as coffee.” Celeste poured a cup of coffee for herself but left out the brandy. “After everything else that’s happened, do you think it was deliberate?”

“Hard to say, except the driver honked his horn as a warning just before he raced past,” Dylan grumbled. “Couldn’t get a license number, though.”

“It’s been what, four days since this all began? I feel as if I’m ending up an unwanted parcel,” Alex said in a low voice, wrapping her fingers around her cup and relishing the warmth.

Celeste picked up the cordless phone set behind the bar and handed it to Dylan. “If you don’t call him and he finds out, you’ll never hear the end of it.”

Dylan swallowed a curse. As he started to take it out of her hand, his cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, mouthed Alan Whitmire’s name and answered it. The more he talked, the lighter his mood. He was grinning from ear to ear when he disconnected the call.

“We finally got a hit on the fingerprints found on your suitcase,” he told Alex. “Ever hear of anyone named Leonard Hart?”

Wide-eyed, Alex shook her head. “He’s the one who attacked me?”

“Admittedly, he could claim he didn’t attack you, but he can’t explain away his prints on your suitcase,” he said. “It’s a beginning, babe.”

Alex squealed and leaned over to hug him, and kissed him warmly. She would have fallen off the stool if he hadn’t slid his arm around her waist.

He kept his arm around her. “I need to bring you good news more often,” he murmured.

Her smile had her eyes gleaming. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

His voice was warm with promise. “Oh, honey, you know I will.”

“You idiot! You coulda killed her,” he said coldly. He wished the boss had listened to him when he said he wanted to work alone. He pulled a cigarette out of the pack he carried in his shirt pocket and lit up.

“How’d I know the accelerator would stick when she practically walked out in front of me?” his partner defended himself as he cruised one side street after another in search of the couple. He’d sped out of there the minute the cop yelled. So far they hadn’t seen a hint of them.

“Now we’re going to have to dump this car, too.” He wondered if you could get an ulcer overnight. His stomach had sure had a lot of burning since the boss had sent them up here to get his property back.

“Are we going to tell the boss about this?”

“Are you kiddin’? You know what he’d do to us? What we need to do is get into her office.”

He really hoped they’d be successful—before this job killed him.

Chapter 9

While the strong coffee Celeste served them should have jangled Alex’s nerves, the brandy actually helped settle them. She was glad they moved to a table where she could sit back and be more comfortable.

The news they’d just received was most welcome. Dylan relayed the information about the near miss, and even if Detective Whitmore felt it was nothing more than coincidence, she still felt hopeful about the fingerprint identification. She only wished the name he gave Dylan was familiar to her.

For now, she would be content to have what she called “normal time.”

She turned her head and studied Celeste, who was dressed in a white silk tailored blouse and tailored black pants, the uniform for Dante’s Café bartenders and wait resses. Her short blond hair was cut in slightly shaggy layers that framed her delicate face and showed off brilliant blue eyes.

Alex remembered meeting the restaurant owner, Luc Dante, a few times when she met clients at the café for lunch or came in on a date. She always thought his brooding handsome manner and his penchant for black clothing attracted a lot of women, but there was no doubt he loved his wife to distraction. She preferred someone more open. A man like Dylan, if she wanted to be honest with herself. She reminded herself that she once had Dylan and had given him up.

Seeing the love that blazed between the couple sent a wave of longing through Alex. She thought of the journal lying in her night table drawer. She still hadn’t finished reading the contents. She knew what Dylan’s reaction would be if he knew about that book. He had already expressed his opinion on her need to know in an eloquent fashion.

She mentally squared her shoulders and decided that for now she was going to sit there, drink her brandy-laced coffee and nibble on freshly made, herb-stuffed and bacon-wrapped mushrooms. She wanted something in her life to be normal even if she could only have it for an hour or two. She picked up her coffee cup and sipped the hot brew, allowing Dylan and Celeste’s conversation to flow past her.

Even with all that had gone on just that day alone, she found herself able to sit there, relax and even enjoy herself. When she looked over at Dylan, she was gifted with a smile that warmed her from the inside out.

That warm, wonderful smile of his was one of the first things that drew me to him. But then what caused me to discard him?

Dylan had only meant to bring her into Dante’s Café so she would have a nice quiet place to fall apart if that was going to happen. After what she just went through he would understand it happening. He knew Celeste would be working today even if he would have to deal with her questions. She tended to be nosier than the typical bartender.

He was relieved to see some color return to Alex’s cheeks and that she was actually relaxed enough to eat. For someone who used to believe a big meal was a bunch of fancy lettuce leaves, he was happy to let her have most of the stuffed-mushroom platter Luc had deposited on the table they eventually moved to.

He studied her, realizing he wasn’t looking at the Alex he met, fell in love with and married after a whirlwind courtship. If he thought about it, he would understand he was looking at the woman who had haunted his dreams when he slept alone in the bed they’d purchased together. It was the first thing he’d gotten rid of, and even then he couldn’t sleep properly. Now he looked at an Alex he could fall in love with again. Back then he loved the career-driven, and more-than-a-little-anal Alex, but there had been times when he wondered what would happen if she would just let go and be the cute, funny and sweet woman he sensed was inside.

Don’t get sucked into that black hole again, he warned himself. Look what happened to you the last time.

“Whitmire has to believe this wasn’t a coincidence,” Celeste said.

“I think he would have been happier if we’d gotten a license number or even the make and model of the vehicle,” he replied.

She turned to Alex. “Deep down, do you think it was deliberate?”

Alex looked off into the distance. “No,” she said finally. “With everything that’s happened you’d think I would think the worst, but I don’t. I think it was nothing more than a careless driver.”

Celeste nodded as if she understood. “I guess I better get back to the bar,” she said, standing up. “Why don’t you two stay for dinner?” She lightly touched Alex’s shoulder. “Just remember, Alex, you’re a strong woman. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve heard it before, but no matter how your lack of memory comes out, look at it as a second chance. We don’t get too many of those.” She shot Dylan another knowing look before she walked away.

“Celeste is right about dinner. I’ll have a private table set up for you.” Luc rose to his feet and moved into the dining room.

“See, I told you we don’t need to worry about a dress code,” Dylan told Alex. He stood up and pulled Alex’s chair out for her when Luc returned to tell them their table was ready.

“You’ll have some privacy here,” Luc told them, directing them to a corner table where a waitress soon brought them a basket of warm sourdough rolls and garlic butter along with a bottle of wine she explained was courtesy of the house.

“I should bring you here more often,” Dylan teased Alex after their wine had been poured and they were left with menus. “They usually try to sit me by the kitchen. I’ve long suspected that Celeste has something to do with that.” He peered closer. “Are you okay? No aftereffects from your close call?”

Alex shook her head. She set her menu to one side. “No. In fact, the past couple of hours have been very nice. I even came to a decision. I’ve decided I don’t want any more adventure,” she informed him. “I intend to go to sleep tonight and wake up to a nice quiet life no matter what.”

“Honey, that’s something we all wish for. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to work out that way.” Dylan looked up as the waitress approached them. “Do you know what you want?”

“I think I’ll have the braised lamb with sour-orange marinade and garlic ranch dressing on my salad.”

“And I’ll have the hot tempered baby back ribs with sweet guava sauce, Catalina dressing on my salad,” he told the waitress. He turned back to Alex. “You know you’ve been eating more in the past few days than I used to see you eat in weeks.”

“Nearly dying does things to a person. No more fat-free anything. I can always spend a little extra time on the treadmill.” She picked up a roll and spread it liberally with the garlic butter.

Dylan grinned back. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear he and Alex were on a date. The candlelight managed to mask her cuts and bruises, and she had a free and happy look on her face he had never seen before. Even when he first met her, he saw the driven attorney and fell in love with that woman without thinking of future consequences that eventually tore them apart. But the Alex he was getting to know now had no desire to talk about her work or the number of billable hours she needed for the month.

If he believed in making wishes, he’d wish that the lost part of her memory would never return. He saw an Alex he would like to take a chance on. Except he knew there would always be that niggling worry in the back of his mind that the entire truth about the disintegration of their marriage would come out. He liked the idea of a clean start, but gossip about their divorce wasn’t something he could keep from her. Dylan knew if Alex didn’t eventually remember everything, he would have to sit down with her and at least tell her his side of the story. If he was lucky, maybe she wouldn’t hate him all over again.

For now, he was determined not to allow those thoughts to haunt him. Instead he wanted to enjoy this time with her as if they were on a date. Or even as if they were an old married couple having a nice evening out.

As they ate their meal Alex shared several bites of her lamb with Dylan, while he offered her one of his ribs.

“Thinking ahead?” he asked, seeing her gaze drifting toward the dessert cart more than once.

“Definitely.” She forked up some of her herbed potatoes. “So, Dylan, tell me what you’ve been doing for the past two years. Has there been anyone serious in your life? Done anything exciting?” She smiled expectantly.

Dylan thought she was teasing him, then he saw the sincerity in her gaze. He didn’t think she’d want to be told about some of his more outrageous alimony payments. No, it was best he not mention any of that. The idea of making up a glamorous supermodel girlfriend didn’t seem right, either.

“No one serious,” he admitted. “Nothing exciting. I did fly up to Alaska last year for some salmon fishing with some of the guys.”

“Did you catch anything?”

“I still have some really nice king salmon steaks in my freezer. It was a great trip, but I discovered my stomach and the open water don’t mix.” He saw the faint look of longing on her face. If they had still been married last year, would he have gone? Most of the guys who went were married, but the wives opted to stay home. He told himself it wasn’t a good idea to get into “what ifs” because he knew that was another dangerous path he dared not tread. When he thought about it, he couldn’t believe how many subjects he felt it was best not to bring up. “Otherwise, it was a good trip,” he finished. But Alex wasn’t finished with him. She drew him out on cases he’d worked on in the past two years and he mentioned the cruise to Australia his parents took a year ago. By the time they were ready to order dessert, he’d caught her up on everything, except to do with their divorce.

Alex closed her eyes in pure bliss as she savored her dessert, a sinful raspberry and white chocolate cake. “Try some.” She leaned across the table with a piece on her fork. Dylan circled her wrist with his fingers as he slowly closed his mouth over the sweet morsel.

“Delicious,” he murmured, keeping his eyes on her. He returned the favor with his almond praline cheesecake.

“I think you’ll have to roll me out of here,” Alex joked as Dylan asked for the check.

“I’ll see if I can find a wheelbarrow,” he teased as Luc approached them.

“Our treat,” Luc told him with a smile warming his normally stern features. “Celeste said you needed something like this,” he turned to Alex. “After everything that has gone on, I’d say you need it more than Dylan. You should come in more often. You don’t even have to bring him with you.”

“Do you know what’s funny? I hear that everywhere.” She smiled back. “Thank you, Luc.”

When they stepped outside, Alex looked around to find that night had fully descended. The old-fashioned-style streetlamps dotting the sidewalks lit up the area with an historic charm. Shops along the street had their doors open in invitation to come in and browse and purchase.

“Want to walk a little before we head back to the truck?” Dylan asked as if sensing her desire to keep real life at bay for a little while longer.

She nodded. “I’d like that.”

He draped his arm around her shoulders as they walked down the sidewalk, their hips bumping companionably along the way. “Just one thing—” he leaned over to whisper in her ear “—I still hate shopping.”

She nibbled on her bottom lip to keep her smile in check. “So you still believe in hitting the mall once a year to stock up on underwear and socks and anything else you need?” Are you in the habit of buying yourself red boxers now or did someone else purchase them for you?

“I’ll have you know I went twice last year. The second time was because I had to replace my favorite boots.”

Alex was relieved to see that most of the shops they passed were still familiar to her. She feared with so much else lost that once-known surroundings would also be a thing of her forgotten past.

After she’d passed her bar exam, she’d originally planned to practice law in San Francisco, had even considered several offers she received, but Will Zane’s offer tempted her the most, even if it took her outside the city. He explained to her that many of his clients needed the assistance of an attorney with corporate experience. He offered her opportunities she wouldn’t have had in a larger firm. She never regretted her move. In fact, she’d relished the chance to make partner sooner with the smaller firm and focused on that goal.

You’ll need to choose, Alex.

She stopped short as the words echoed inside her head.

Dylan skidded to a stop and looked down at her, then at the store window she was staring blindly into. He nudged her with his shoulder.

“I had no idea you were interested in sports memorabilia,” he commented idly. “What caught your eye? The autographed football or the trading cards?”

“Hmm?” She looked up. “Uh, no, I was just thinking.” She started to move on, but Dylan grabbed hold of her hand to stop her.

“What’s wrong, Alex?” His gentle tone was almost her undoing.

She shook her head. Until she figured out the exact significance of the words she wasn’t going to confide in him. “So much has happened lately, yet tonight has seemed so normal,” she lied. “It makes me feel off balance.”

“You’re due to have some normal time.” He tugged on her hand and led her down the street back toward the police station. “We probably should head back to your place. Who knows what Clarence has gotten up to while we’ve been gone? He could be throwing a wild party.” He shook his head in mock concern.

“You are silly.” Alex nudged his shoulder with hers the way he’d done to her earlier.

“And pleased that I can make you laugh.” When they reached the security gate guarding the station’s parking lot for employees and patrol cars, he pulled a magnetic card out of his wallet and inserted it in the slot. They walked inside as the gate slowly glided to one side.

Five minutes later, Dylan parked his truck in the guest parking lot near Alex’s condo.

“It looks pretty quiet up there,” she commented as they ascended the stairs. “Maybe Clarence decided to spend a quiet evening in.”

“Or maybe they heard us coming and snuck out the back. They have that ability to land on all four feet if they bailed out from the balcony.” He waited as she punched in the code for the door lock and listened for the click.

“They cleaned up after themselves, too,” she said as they entered. Clarence lay snoozing across the back of the couch. He didn’t stir at their arrival. “Look at that. He’s not even pretending to be a good watch cat.” She dropped her purse on a nearby table and toed off her sandals. She pulled her scrunchie out of her hair and dug her fingers into her scalp as she walked into the kitchen.

“Maybe he’s perfecting his role for working undercover.” Out of habit, Dylan checked the windows and wandered through the other rooms, pausing the longest in Alex’s bedroom doorway.

“We’re in luck. They left the wine alone. Do you want a glass?” she called out.

“Sure, why not.” He studied the bisque quilted comforter with its olive, cream and bronze throw pillows carefully stacked against the pillow shams. It was quietly elegant, like the Alex that first appeared before their divorce. Not like the woman he’d been with today. He longed to toss her onto the immaculate comforter and muss the bed—and the woman—a little.

When he wandered to the front, he found Alex seated on the balcony. A pillar candle gave off a rich vanilla scent as it burned on the small table that also held an open wine bottle and two glasses. The lamps lighting up the tennis courts and along the walking trail gave off a distant illumination, leaving them in a world of their own making. He noticed she had stretched her legs out to prop her crossed ankles on the railing while she sat slumped down in the chair with her neck resting against the back. The evening breeze ruffled her hair around her face.

“I poured a glass for you.” She waved a lazy hand toward the table.

“I hope you’re not trying to get me drunk,” he said, lowering his body into the chair next to hers and taking the glass closest to him. “I’ve never been easy. Cheap, yes, but not easy.” He leaned over. “Was that a giggle I just heard? You really are going for normal tonight.”

“I’m trying.” She gestured with her glass. “Then I looked out there and swore I saw someone skulking in the bushes by the tennis courts.”

Since she didn’t appear worried, he followed suit. “And was someone skulking out there?”

“No, it was just a dog. Why don’t you tell me why you and Detective Whitmire don’t get along?” Alex suggested.

He heaved a dramatic sigh. “It’s a very sad story. He got huffy at a department softball game last summer. Whitmire isn’t a very good player, but he likes to act as if he was descended from Babe Ruth. All I did was call out if he’s going to bat we’d be better off to forfeit the game and go out and get drunk. He got cranky, I ended up in the ER with a concussion. End of story.” He shrugged it off.

Alex shook her head. “You never learn, do you?”

“I sure did that time. I sat in the ER begging someone to just shoot me to put me out of my misery while Celeste spent the next hour yelling at me.”

“And what did Detective Whitmire end up with?” she asked.

He picked up the wine bottle. “Let me refill your glass.” He leaned forward.

She quickly placed her hand over the glass before he could top it off. “What happened to Detective Whitmire, Dylan?”

“Give me a break, Al, the last thing I want is for you to sound like my mother,” he grumbled, refusing to look at her. “He didn’t get a scratch on him. Happy?”

She rested her chin on her palm. “Really? Is there video?”

“Knowing those guys, it’s probably up on a Web site somewhere if you want to go to the trouble of Googling our names.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t consider it any trouble at all. I love to be entertained.” She caught the look on his face. “What? You can’t say I didn’t like to be entertained before because I know different.”

“Sure you did, if it was an art exhibit or concert in San Francisco. You never were much to take in a movie unless it had subtitles.”

She frowned, not liking what she heard. “I don’t understand it. I don’t remember being a snob, but I don’t doubt what you’re saying, either.”

She picked up her wineglass and took a few sips to ease the dryness in her throat. “There is one thing I have noticed that I think bothers me more than anything else. What happened to me that night is common knowledge. I even made page one in the Sierra Vista Observer, but since then I haven’t received one phone call or e-mail from a friend asking how I am. I guess no one cared what happened to me.” Her voice lowered to a mere whisper. She set her wineglass to one side. “Maybe I better lay off this. I’m starting to sound absolutely pathetic.”

“You’ve always focused on your career and tended to let your social life slide,” he said carefully, likewise putting his glass to one side.

Alex turned sideways. “Please, Dylan, I want you to tell me what I was like these past two years,” she pleaded. “We had to have seen each other during that time, so you would know.”

“We didn’t see each other. We were busy with our work.” He avoided her question just as he avoided her gaze.

The glow from the candle cast a soft, warm light onto her face. “We never talked things over afterward?” She slumped back in her chair.

Dylan knew he couldn’t look at her sad face any longer. He stood up and walked over to her. Alex let out a soft squeal of surprise when he bent down and picked her up, then sat down in her chair and settled her in his lap, his arms wrapped around her and her legs hanging over the chair arm.

“Forget worrying about the past, Alex. You wanted normal, remember? So what we’re going to do is sit here and enjoy the evening.” His breath tickled her ear. “We’ll be normal.” He shifted her around into a better position, where she lay with her side resting against his chest and his chin resting on her head.

“This is nice,” she agreed.

Dylan inhaled the faint citrus scent of Alex’s hair as the breeze picked up strands and blew them across his face. She felt warm and familiar in his arms, bringing back memories of nights they’d lain together in a hammock he had strung between two trees in the backyard. They’d curled up together and joked about counting stars and making wishes on any shooting star they happened to see. And sometimes they discarded their clothing and made love under the cover of darkness. Those were the nights he remembered well. And with Alex in his arms again, he felt that temptation rise up. Among other things.

Alex tipped her head to one side and offered up a smile of pure seduction. She raised herself up and shifted her body, settling a knee on either side of him so that she knelt in front of him. She ran the back of her fingers along the collar of his shirt.

“It seems a shame we have to let a gorgeous moon go to waste,” she murmured, moving her fingers up to trace the curve of his ear.

Dylan was positive the cool evening temperature jumped up a good fifty degrees. He gripped her around the waist to keep her from driving him even crazier. “Uh, Alex, I don’t want to think the wine is talking. We need to keep clear heads here.”

She gave him a slow, sweet smile that hit him stronger and hotter than any amount of alcohol could. “I don’t allow wine to do my talking for me, Dylan. My memory may be impaired, but I would like to assure you that the rest of me is in perfect working order.”

“Yes, so I’ve noticed.” His fingers splayed out, resting just under her breasts. He moved them up a fraction until they cupped the gentle curve.

The soft, powdery scent of her perfume wove an enticing net around him just as her smile brought up memories of just what those lips could do. It was enough to give a man a heart attack.

“Dylan…I almost think I’m better off not remembering,” she said softly. “I can start out fresh. Try something new. Relive something old. Maybe even try something a little wild.”

“Funny, I never thought of myself as something old.” He was struggling to keep a clear head even with erotic pictures of him and Alex dancing through his head. When she leaned forward and brushed his mouth with hers, he tasted chocolate and raspberries along with the wine she’d drunk. For a moment he tilted forward and returned the kiss, rediscovering her taste and the feel of her skin—like silk under his fingertips.

Dylan deliberately shut off the part of his brain that yelled Wait a minute! Not a good idea! You’re her bodyguard, not her lover! Except it was the word lover that kept his attention.

He hadn’t had as many relationships since his divorce as some people thought he had. It was easier for others to think he was dating a different woman every night than for them to know he found it easier to be by himself. The few women he dated knew he wasn’t looking for anything permanent and that no promises would be made. He found it easier to keep what was left of his heart to himself. The only woman who breached his defenses was the one to tear them into bits, then leave him to pick up the pieces. He wasn’t sure he wanted to take that chance again.

But then he looked up at her face and saw so much there that he knew he’d never seen before. Alex’s expression held an openness she’d never revealed until now.

He cupped her cheek with his palm. “Don’t make too many changes too soon, Alex. Give yourself time to adjust.”

She shook her head. “This isn’t a whim. I don’t remember our bad times, Dylan. I remember the good. Is it so wrong to want to have that again? Can’t you forget the past two years just for tonight?”

He didn’t mistake the yearning in her voice, just as he didn’t mistake what she was asking of him. But he didn’t think she truly understood what she was asking.

“Dylan,” she murmured, brushing her lips against his again along with a small flick of the tongue. She combed her fingers through his hair, then rested them against his nape. She turned her head only to blow out the candle. The faint scent of vanilla lingered in the air.

He could call himself a fool in the morning. He could tell himself he was an idiot in the light of day. And he could hope she wouldn’t hate him afterward.

Dylan pulled her down against him and captured her mouth with a hunger that had been lying dormant for the past two years. He revisited the dark cavern of her mouth, renewed memories of her taste and rediscovered the feel of her skin against his. He helped her shrug off her hoodie, then he pushed the hem of her top up and off, tossing it to one side. He used his fingertips to trace the lacy line of her bra before reaching around to unhook it, so he could slide his fingers under the band and find the soft mounds of flesh. She arched her back with feline-like grace as his palms gently kneaded her breasts.

“Magic,” he murmured against her lips. “Always magic.” He lost himself in the taste, scent and feel of Alex in his arms. Not to mention the way her butt nestled so familiarly in his lap. He ran his palms down her sides to rest on her hips, lightly pressing her downward against the bulge straining to escape his jeans.

Alex dipped her head and gently latched on to his lower lip, nibbling softly. His hands tightened on her hips, raised her up slightly, then brought her back down against him. She moaned quietly against his lips and wiggled more, bringing an answering groan.

“This balcony is very private,” she said, panting slightly. She pulled his shirttail out of his jeans and allowed her hands to move under the cotton-knit fabric. The rough hairs were pleasantly abrasive against her palms as they traveled upward, tracing the muscular lines of his chest. Still smiling, she pulled his shirt up and over his head, dropping it onto the ground by the chair.

“No snoopy neighbors?” he asked, finding it difficult to keep his mind on anything but the silky feel of her breasts against his chest. He tunneled his fingers through her hair, pulling it away from her face. The moonlight cast an unearthly glow on her features and bare shoulders as she rose up over him.

“If I was so inclined, I could sunbathe nude out here and no one could see one inch of my body,” she murmured.

Dylan thought of how easy it would be to move his hand downward, lower his jeans zipper, lower her pants and finalize what they were just beginning. There was no doubt that Alex was willing. There was just one problem. The timing was very wrong.

Except he could see the emerald glaze in her eyes and the peachy-pink flush to her skin that he knew was the second step to arousal. The first step had been when she started kissing him.

With his hands still buried in her hair, he pulled her back down to him and kissed her with a hunger that had built up within him for the past two years. He didn’t ask permission, he invaded. His tongue parted her lips and swept inside, tasting the wine she’d drunk and the spicy flavor of arousal. He inhaled the musky scent of desire on her skin and fell even farther into the sensual web she wove around him.

“Dylan,” she murmured. “Please.” She moved against him with clear intent.

He kept kissing her but kept her in place. When she realized he would go no further, she stopped.

“Is it because we’re divorced? Or because what I’m feeling from you is really nothing more than a normal male reaction?” she asked.

“It’s not a good time, Alex, but not for the reasons you think,” he said quietly. “There’s a lot going on for you right now. Sex would only mix things up even more. Do you really want that?”

She carefully slid off his lap and bent down to pick up his shirt, which she tossed on his lap, then pulled on her tank top and hoodie. Dylan felt regret seeing that porcelain skin covered up. Even telling himself that it was for the best didn’t make it any easier.

“Think of everything that happened today,” he reminded her. “Emotionally, you’ve gone through a lot. This is just a reaction to everything. I don’t want you regretting anything that could happen and then you’d end up hating me.” He paused for a moment, because his brain and common sense were battling over what should happen next.

She appeared to think over his words. “Does it have to do with the gaps in my memory?”

“Part of it does,” he admitted. “You’re vulnerable now, Alex. I can’t take advantage of that.”

He inwardly cursed as he watched her expression shift from desire to dejection. Within seconds she masked her feelings with a look of indifference that he knew was nothing more than a lie.

“You’re right,” she said quietly. “It’s been a long, eventful day and I am very tired. I’m going to bed.”

“I’ll clean up,” he told her as she bent down to pick up the wine bottle and glasses. She nodded and walked back into the kitchen. A moment later, the light in the kitchen winked out.

Dylan picked up the wine bottle and gulped a mouthful.

“There is nothing more painful than being a damn gentleman.”

Alex never thought she could hurt this much. Dylan wanted her. She had no doubt about that. He’d kissed her as if he wanted to bury himself in her. It brought up memories of heated lovemaking where nothing mattered but each other.

She stood in the shower with her back to the shower-head so Dylan wouldn’t hear her cry. She didn’t leave until she was certain her tears were finished. After dressing in a pair of lilac cotton pajama pants and a lilac lace-trimmed print camisole top, she curled up under the covers with the intention of rolling into the fetal position and whimpering until she fell asleep.

She’d felt his hunger, tasted it, so why did he reject her? She’d enjoyed it a great deal and was ready for more. Instead, he’d pushed her away, told her it wasn’t the right time.

As she rolled over onto her side, her gaze fell on the night table. After reading her regrets over the divorce she knew she couldn’t read anymore.

She never realized a blow to the head could turn her world upside down. Now came the hope she could find a way to get it right before it was too late for her and Dylan. She sensed he was open to a new start for them and she wanted the chance to make it happen.

“I could make it up to him,” she whispered. “I can show him I’m a different person now.” She glanced at the night table. She stretched out her hand and touched the drawer where she knew her journal lay. She brushed her fingers against the drawer pull with the intention of opening it, then pulled back. She jerked her hand back and tucked it under the sheet before she gave in to temptation and pulled out the journal for some late-night reading.

Be honest with yourself, Alex. He did the right thing by turning you down out there, a little voice inside her brain whispered. You have to respect a man who has such high principles even if you hate him right now for having them. She turned out the light and closed her eyes tightly as if sleep could come that easily.

“It would have been nicer if he could have forgotten them for a little while longer,” she whispered with a forlorn sigh.

Chapter 10

Dylan had expected a sleepless night. He was already familiar with the fact that Alex’s couch wasn’t exactly designed to provide a restful night’s sleep. Except tonight turned out to be a painful one, too. Alex had turned into one sexy handful the night before and it just about killed him to dissuade her from their indulging in some fresh-air sex on the balcony.

He had been tempted. Oh, man, had he been tempted! Making love with Alex in the past had been mind-blowing at the very least. They had always been in sync where their desires were concerned. He had a sense that whatever would have happened between them last night would have surpassed anything they’d shared in the past.

But no, he had to be Mr. Nice Guy. He couldn’t even toss and turn on the couch if he didn’t want to end up on the carpet. As it was, he ended up sharing the couch with Clarence.

“Come on, cat. You have a perfectly good bed in the office,” he grumbled, punching his pillow with more force than necessary. “Why don’t you go use it?”

He shouldn’t have been a gentleman. He should have given in and put them both out of their misery. He should have done what felt right and damn the consequences when the light of day hit them.

“That will teach me,” he muttered, rolling over onto his side. He was just drifting off to a troubled sleep when a whisper of a sound alerted him he wasn’t alone. He sat up and looked toward the darkened hallway leading to the other rooms. Alex stood in the archway. Her pajamas were badly rumpled with one strap hanging off her shoulder. Even though she’d gone to bed an hour earlier, she was already sporting a serious case of bed head. She looked every bit as miserable as he felt.

“Come here, you,” he softly invited.

She wasted no time running over to the couch and dropped onto the cushion by him. She picked up Clarence and set him in her lap as if she needed to hold on to something.

“I feel as if we had a fight instead of—” she whispered. A lone tear trickled down her cheek. “I don’t want to fight with you, Dylan. My memory may have all these gaps, but I do know that something bad happened in the past. I wish I could remember what it was because then maybe I could find a way to fix it. Since that isn’t possible, can we at least get past that? Is there any chance we could try for a new start?” she appealed to him.

If Dylan tried to harden his heart against Alex it would have melted before she got two words out. All he had to do was look at her hopeful expression and hear the sincerity in her voice.

She could stomp on your heart all over again, buddy, the logical side of his brain whispered. And you’d be left behind, picking up the pieces.

Or you could have pure heaven, the hopeful side also whispered.

He reached out and whisked away the tear with his thumb before he picked up the cat and deposited him on the floor. Clarence shot him a dirty look and stalked off with his tail held high. “A new start sounds good to me.” He pulled her onto his lap and settled back against the cushions. Alex sighed with relief and curled up against him with her head on his shoulder.

“I just feel so scared,” she admitted in a whisper. “All I remember is that if it wasn’t for you I’d be alone. I know it sounds crazy, but I don’t feel safe unless I’m with you.”

“You’re a brave and strong woman, Alex,” he assured her, smoothing her hair away from her face. “You can handle anything that comes your way. Look how well you’ve handled dealing with your memory gaps.”

“I don’t feel brave and strong when someone out there hurt me and apparently means to hurt me again.” She buried her face against the curve of his shoulder. “I look all around me and I see nothing but strangers.”

“I know it’s taking time, but you’ll work through this,” he soothed, running his hand down her spine in slow, relaxing strokes. “You’ll learn to adjust and handle all this just fine. I have faith in you, Al.”

She lifted her head slightly so she could look into his face. “You do, don’t you? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better. You really mean what you say.”

“Of course I do.” He framed her face with his hands. “You’ve always had grit, Alex. Maybe it took what happened for you to realize that there’s nothing wrong with a little change in your life.”

“But I haven’t realized it,” she argued.

“Sure you did. You just don’t want to admit it. But I saw it,” Dylan said softly. “Remember what Celeste told you. Even if your memory doesn’t fully return you’ll still be fine.”

She pondered what he said. “Meaning there’s no reason why I can’t make changes in my life,” she murmured.

“Sure you can.” He couldn’t help wondering just what changes she might plan on making. He liked this new Alex a lot and he wanted to stick around and see what she’d do with her new self.

“Which is why I hope we can start over,” Alex said quickly, as if she wanted to say the words before she lost her nerve. “Will you give me that chance?” She looked deeply into his eyes to convey her sincerity.

Dylan studied Alex as if he’d never seen her before. The minimal light cast shadows on Alex’s face as she gazed down at him. As far as he was concerned, there was no choice to make. That decision had been made for him long ago. Time might have passed along with a lot of animosity flowing between them, but a knock on the head had changed all that and they were at different stages of their lives. She was right. It was time for that new start. He inhaled the soft, powdery scent of her skin.

“I’d like that.” He knew he was throwing caution right out the window by saying that, but God help him, he’d never really fallen out of love with her.

Her smile of relief lit up her face. “I want to do things right,” she vowed.

“Then why don’t we start with doing a little recreating of what we started earlier?” he asked.

The slightest curve of her lips gave him hope.

“I don’t know why that can’t be arranged,” she murmured, placing her hands on his bare shoulders.

“Then come here,” he growled, pulling her closer to him and fastening his mouth on hers. The minute his mouth touched hers, the heat flared up like wildfire—and this time, he was going to give in to it. He wrapped his arms around her as she lifted one leg over and settled herself in his lap. She obliged him by resting her legs on either side of his, setting her hips directly against his. She started to wiggle against him, but he stilled her restless movements. She looped her arms around his neck. “Slow and easy,” he murmured. “Even if it kills me, we’re going to take this slow and easy.”

She ducked her head and gently fastened her teeth on his earlobe. “Don’t worry, Dylan, I intend to keep you alive.” A teasing note entered her voice as she whispered in his ear. “Now, where were we?” Her hand trailed slowly down his bare chest, pausing when she reached the waistband to his boxers. She fingered the fabric circling his waist. He reflexively sucked in a breath that compacted his already-flat stomach.

“Oh, no need to do that. You have the six-pack abs,” she assured him, sliding first one finger then two under the waistband, pulling it out just a bit. She dipped her head and trailed her lips across the line of his jaw. “Everything is nice…and hard.” Her lips curved in a teasing smile.

New Alex, new moves. He toyed with the strap that drooped down her arm. With a graceful movement, she raised her arm up, freeing it from the strap. Keeping his eyes on her, he pulled her top off and tossed it back over his shoulder. She brought his eyes to her bare breasts as she raised her arms over her head in a graceful motion before settling them back on his shoulders. Her pale skin gave off an ethereal gleam in the dim light.

“Alex, you are so beautiful you take my breath away,” he murmured, tracing the delicate lines of her collarbone. He couldn’t help but notice that she was leaner than she had been when they were married. He used his hands to trace random circles around her breast, feeling the skin heat under his touch. “Fire and ice,” he murmured, dipping his head to taste her again. “You’re all mine.” He felt a primal possessive emotion rear up inside as the words echoed around them. “All mine,” he repeated as he captured her mouth with his. He quickly discovered that slow and easy wasn’t an option when her taste flooded his senses. She lifted her hips as he pulled her pajama pants down and pushed them away, then rose up so she could do the same with his boxers. He silently vowed it would be slow and easy next time. It had been too long for them, and this primal connection was something they both needed.

He threaded his fingers through the red curling hair at the juncture of her thighs and found her damp and receptive. He kept his gaze on her face as he pressed his fingers up and inward. Alex uttered a soft moan and murmured his name over and over again as his movements first quickened then eased back to intensify the pleasure. With her hair wild about her shoulders and skin bearing a rosy flush, she looked like any red-blooded man’s ideal dream woman. The powdery fragrance of her skin deepened with the musky scent of a woman aroused by her mate. It only made him hungrier for her. He was eager to fully claim her as his own. When she ducked her head and covered his mouth with her own, he thrust his tongue between her parted lips, mimicking his fingers’ movement inside her body. Except too soon it wasn’t enough and they needed more.

When Dylan moved to thrust upward, she sat back, holding his shoulders down to stop any movement.

“Easy, boy,” she murmured. She reached down and circled him with her fingers. Dylan hissed, as if he had been seared by incredible heat. As she guided his shaft into her, she kissed him with a passion that hadn’t been present during any of the times they’d made love.

Dylan swore his nerve endings fairly hummed as Alex moved her hips in counterpoint to his thrusting. He kept his eyes on her body sinuously moving in an ancient cadence that heated his blood to a boiling point.

“Okay, we’ll try slow and easy next time,” he groaned as he felt his body tighten to the point of pleasure pain. He rubbed his fingers against the sensitive nub that had Alex gasping.

The minute Dylan buried himself deeply inside Alex, he felt as if their separation had never happened. Or perhaps like Alex, he conveniently forgot that painful period known as the end of their marriage. All he knew was that what was between them was something very special and it felt very right.

He clenched his jaw against the pleasurable agony of her tightening her inner muscles as he started to withdraw. She bore down on him, tightening her muscles around him.

“Yes.” Her sigh came out as a sexy whisper. “Please, Dylan.” She tightened her muscles more to keep him deeply within her.

He would have given her anything including the world. He would have thrown in the entire galaxy if it meant she didn’t leave him again. As his movements quickened, she held on to him tighter, whispered his name over and over until she was lost in the same sensual whirlpool. He covered her mouth with his, muffling her cries.

“Dylan,” Alex murmured, sounding as satisfied as he felt. Her sigh moved her breasts up against his chest. “Wouldn’t we be a lot more comfortable in the bed?”

He rested his forehead against hers. “Yeah, just as soon as I have the energy to move. Which might be in a year or two…or five.”

She chuckled softly. “As far as I can tell you’re moving pretty good right now.”

Dylan’s muscles may have felt like mush, but he knew that parts of his body were recovering quickly.

He carried Alex back to the bedroom and lightly tossed her onto the bed. He wasted no time in joining her on the tumbled covers, rolling over onto his side. He turned over to switch on the lamp by the bed, which threw a soft light throughout the room.

Alex laughed and turned over onto her stomach to lie alongside him. “Did I happen to tell you that you are incredible?” She ran her nail down the center of his chest, through the light dusting of gray hair that matched the hair on his head. She absently wound a tuft around her finger. “Whoever said that gray-haired men are old doesn’t know just how hot they are.”

He was too engrossed in the seductive sight of her shapely bottom and one leg bent at the knee, her foot waving idly back and forth, to concentrate on what she was saying.

“Dylan! Are you listening to me?” She grabbed hold of a tuft of chest hair and playfully pulled on it.

“Ow! I am now!” He grabbed hold of her hands before she inflicted more damage. “I’m listening to every word you’re saying,” he said, even as his gaze drifted over her bare back and beyond.

“Maybe you can concentrate now.” She ignored Dylan’s groan of dismay as she reached down and pulled the sheet up over her. She touched his cheek with her fingertips. “Thank you,” she said softly. “Thank you for giving me something so beautiful when I know you could have told me to go away again.”

“I didn’t want to reject you earlier,” he admitted, understanding she needed to keep the tone serious right now. “I was trying to be a gentleman.”

“I already know you’re a gentleman. I wanted my hu—lover back.” She picked at the stitched hem of the sheet. Her whisper was so low her words barely reached his ears, even though they lay close together. “My memory might not be perfect right now, but I do know that I miss you.” She drew a deep, shuddering breath. “I think I always have and probably didn’t want to admit it.” She managed the smallest of smiles. “I’m very stubborn.”

Dylan chuckled. “The red hair is a pretty good indication.” He thought he was falling before, but now he knew that fall was pretty much complete. Alex had woven her web around him and had well and truly snared him. He couldn’t even blame it on their lovemaking, because he was falling before then. It was her vulnerability that reeled him in and he wasn’t the least bit unwilling. He thought of all the changes he’d seen in her the past few days. The one that stood out was that Alex wasn’t the utterly focused, self-assured and driven woman she had been before. “Stubborn is good sometimes.”

“Such as when I pushed you to keep me in the loop on this investigation.” She shifted her position so she could rest her upper body on her elbows. “You make me forget things,” she admitted.

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“I know that Detective Whitmire wants to shelve the case,” she said quietly.

He pressed his fingers against her lips, but she shook her head. “He has to take what happened to you on the street into consideration,” he pointed out.

“Almost happened to me,” she corrected him. “For all we know it was a careless driver who wasn’t looking. And he did honk a warning. Detective Whitmire doesn’t think the attacker will be caught. How do we know he hasn’t left town?”

“And how do we know he has?” Dylan argued. “Call it a gut feeling, Alex, but I think those two guys are still out there waiting for another opportunity.”

“We don’t even know what they want.” She sat up, curling her legs under her body. “I feel as if we’re starring in some spy drama where the villain is after a stolen roll of microfilm. We looked through my suitcase and briefcase but didn’t find anything. And the cell phone returned was mine, so it isn’t as if I picked up someone else’s by mistake. The same with the PDA.”

Dylan climbed out of bed. “Hold that thought. I’ll be right back.” He left the room and returned, now dressed in his boxers. “I don’t want to distract you,” he said wryly, stretching out on the sheets. “Good idea, by the way, thinking that you might have somehow picked up someone else’s cell or PDA.” He grinned at Alex’s look of glowing pride at her detecting skills.

“And my notebook computer is password-protected, so they couldn’t get into it easily.”

“Unless they know your birth date,” he muttered.

“It’s easy to remember,” she said huffily. “I don’t like having to remember different passwords for different situations. I’ve never had problems before.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re immune. Your password is too easy to figure out. Throw in some extra numbers or a few letters. Use Clarence’s name if you want something easy to remember. You need to get some street smarts, Alex.”

“Would having street smarts have saved me that night at the airport?” she asked quietly.

Dylan lay back with his hands laced behind his head, his ankles crossed. “You would have had a better chance. If you had remained aware of everything going on around you and realized in that split second that someone was coming up behind you you could have thrown your briefcase at him while screaming your lungs out. You could have activated your car alarm. Anything to get attention.”

“Teach me, Dylan,” she murmured. “Teach me not to be afraid. Teach me to be brave.”

He drew her into his arms, turned her over so that she lay with her back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her in a protective womb. “You are a very brave woman. After all, you put up with me,” he teased. He used a free hand to reach behind him and switch off the lamp, throwing the room back into darkness. Alex placed her hands over his.

“This is nice,” she murmured. “I don’t remember that we cuddled much before.”

He nuzzled her ear. “Yours won’t end up an unsolved case, Al. Every crook does something stupid.”

With the events of the day bearing down on her, the late hour and the warmth of Dylan’s body against her back, Alex felt her muscles start to relax. She closed her eyes and started to feel herself slip off to sleep. “Thank you,” she whispered.

She could sense his smile against her hair. “Anytime.”

Only that one night when Dylan held her did Alex sleep without bad dreams ruining her slumber. She knew tonight she would have that same restful sleep.

She was safe.

“Batman.” The drowsy voice finally filtered through his sleep-fogged brain. He tightened his hold on heaven.

“Sorry, honey, I left the cape at home,” he muttered, nuzzling her neck, then kissing the tender spot behind her ear, which he knew made her more than a little crazy. He decided he liked crazy Alex the best. You never knew what to expect. He winced when a flailing hand hit his shoulder.

“No, Batman! Your phone is ringing,” Alex told him, referring to the TV theme song coming from his cell phone.

Groaning with disappointment that there would be no morning loving, Dylan climbed out of bed and stumbled into the living room, where he knew his phone was resting on the coffee table. He picked it up and flipped it open.

“Parker.” He screwed his eyes shut as he listened to the caller. “When?” he asked tersely. “Okay, thanks.” Keeping his phone in his hand, he walked slowly back into the bedroom.

Alex was lying on her back, stretching her arms over her head in a lazy manner. She had deliberately draped the sheet to hide strategic areas that ordinarily Dylan would have been tempted to uncover. Her sultry smile faltered when she saw his somber expression. “Something happened.” She sat up, not caring the sheet fell to her waist. She looked as alert as she would if she had drunk a few cups of strong coffee. “Dylan, tell me!”

He sat down next to her hip. He studied her face, seeing the alarm written there and more than a hint of fear. He knew she didn’t want to hear what he was about to say. Hell, he didn’t want to say it, but he knew he had to tell her before she read it in the newspaper. He felt her tension when he picked up her hands.

“Mrs. Bridger died last night,” he said quietly.

A soft, keening cry left Alex’s lips. “No.” She breathed in deeply through her nose. She tried to wrench her hands from his grip, but he tightened his grasp.

“Alex,” he said softly but firmly. “She had a weak heart. The break-in brought on two heart attacks. The surgery was successful, but it still didn’t prevent the second and fatal attack. In the end, all they could do was make her comfortable.”

“But she shouldn’t have died, Dylan,” she appealed to him. “It’s my fault she was so badly frightened.”

“No, it isn’t!” He released her hands and gripped her shoulders, shaking her gently. “Alex, look at me!” He waited until she stared him in the eye. “Those men broke into her condo and frightened her so badly she was taken to the hospital. Those men were the ones who caused it, not you.”

“But they thought they were in my condo,” she argued. “If they hadn’t been looking for me, they wouldn’t have found her.”

“You didn’t force them to go after you, Alex. They did this all on their own and now they’ll be charged with her death,” he continued in a low, forceful voice.

Alex kept shaking her head, refusing to listen to any more. In the end, Dylan gathered her up in his arms and let her cry.

“It’s all my fault!” Alex cried.

Dylan knew she didn’t care what he was saying to her. She was past comforting. He listened to her mutter her feelings of guilt that a woman had died because of her.

He whispered in her ear. He said things that made no sense but were meant to soothe her.

When her tears started to lessen, he got up and went into the bathroom to return with a tissue. She blew her nose, sniffed a few times and shored up her defenses.

“They can’t get away with it.” She raised her chin, ready to do battle.

Dylan hugged her. “That’s my Alex.”

She looked up at him. “Detective Whitmire can’t blow me off any longer. The stakes have been raised.”

“He’s the one who called me with the news,” he told her. “I’d say he knows he can’t put your case aside now.”

“I said I didn’t want any more adventure and I don’t,” Alex murmured. Her voice hardened. “But I do want revenge. I want to see them punished for what they did.” She sighed. “I’ll be honest, Dylan. I don’t know how much more I can take.” As if fate heard her, her telephone rang. She nodded when Dylan looked at her and picked up the cordless unit.

“Hello?” His expression darkened. “You’re kidding me. Have you called the police yet?” Alex grabbed his arm. He made a gesture indicating he’d tell her in a minute. “Call them now. Tell them Detective Alan Whitmire needs to be notified. We’ll be right over.”

“Now what?” She felt like wailing.

Dylan swore long and hard under his breath. “Seems your office was broken into last night. Barney, the security guard, was knocked unconscious.”

“Knocking people out seems to be turning into an epidemic.” Alex fought to get out of her sheet and ran for the bathroom. “Give me ten minutes.”

“You’ve got five,” he called after her, already heading for his duffel bag.

All thoughts of a leisurely breakfast in bed were gone.

Twenty minutes later a stunned Alex stood in the hallway of her office staring past crime-scene technicians dusting fingerprint powder on the furniture and marking areas.

“Since everything is password-protected and encrypted, they couldn’t copy any of the files,” Greg told Dylan. “We found CDs scattered all over her desk. Either they didn’t know what file they were looking for…”

“Or they were looking for a specific CD,” Dylan replied, finishing the sentence for him. He looked at Janet, who appeared as stunned as Alex. “Do you think anything was taken?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t go in once I saw the office. I went back to my desk and called you then called the police.”

Alex moved closer to Dylan. “First Mrs. Bridger, now this,” she murmured. “I’m not even going to jinx myself by saying nothing else can happen.” She looked past Dylan. “Well, Detective Whitmire, my case seems to have taken some interesting turns.” Her words had an acidic bite to them.

The taciturn man had the grace to flush as he understood her unspoken words that the break-in was connected to everything else that had happened to her. “We will do what is necessary to find who was behind this break-in.”

“Was anyone else’s office broken into?” she asked.

“No, ma’am” he was forced to admit.

Alex borrowed a page from her boss’s book and leaned into the detective’s personal space. “Then I suggest you do something about this ASAP.” She bit off each word. “Get those guys. Soon.”

Detective Whitmire took a deep breath, as if he knew he’d just dodged a bullet. He looked at Dylan. “Better you than me, Parker,” he said.

Dylan was busy admiring Alex’s show of temper. “That’s the way I see it, too.”

“Then do us all a favor and get her out of here before she starts taking body parts.” He moved off.

Dylan nodded and went in search of Alex. He found her in the coffee room, sitting at a table he could easily visualize in someone’s dining room. A coffee cup sat in front of her. She waved her hand toward the coffeemaker and trays filled with pastries.

“Help yourself,” she invited.

Once he filled a cup and chose a cherry Danish, he took the chair next to hers.

“I don’t know how much more I can take, Dylan,” she said in a low voice, staring into her cup. When she raised her face, her features were drawn and haunted. “What if they choose to go after someone else? I’m sorry Barney was injured and grateful it was nothing more than a bump on the head, but it could have been much worse. What if someone had come in early and found them here? They could have been seriously hurt or worse.”

“It doesn’t make sense, Alex. Whoever did this knows what they’re doing because they’ve made sure to wipe down everything. We’ll get a hit. Besides, I can’t see them being smart enough to fly under the radar for too long.”

She absently chewed on a fingernail. “You once said you didn’t think they were pros because they were messy during their search.”

Dylan nodded. “Usually when a place is tossed that badly it’s either someone very angry or who has personal issues with the owner. The same with your office. A pro can search a place and not leave any hint it was even touched.”

Alex’s lips moved in thought. “We need to go through my things again. You said it before, and for some reason we didn’t follow up. I need to look at the CDs.” She stopped.

“You already said that.” He noted the look on her face.

“They’re looking for a CD!” She almost bounced in her chair with excitement.

“You went through yours after we searched your briefcase,” he reminded her.

She shook her head. Her hands moved at lightning speed to emphasize her words. “But we didn’t know exactly what we were looking for then, so I might not have been as thorough as I should have been. I was having these stabbing pains off and on, but I thought they were just a result of the head injury. One of the words that triggers pain is CD. What if there’s a connection between the pain and the word? Think about it, Dylan. It really does make sense.” She stood up. “I have to go through them again.”

Dylan looked sadly at his untouched cherry Danish, took a big bite, a swig of coffee and followed her out of the room.

“She keeps this up, she’ll be ready for the police academy any day now.”

Dylan insisted they eat first and whipped up scrambled eggs and toast while Alex brought her notebook computer into the kitchen along with the CDs from her briefcase. She chose one of the CDs and popped it into her computer.

“It’s my schedule from my trip to San Francisco,” she explained.

“I thought that’s what your PDA was for.” Dylan poured two fresh cups of coffee and set one cup near her elbow before he sat down across from her.

She wrinkled her nose. “I like having a backup and its easier than carrying around a written calendar.”

“Control issues again,” he murmured.

Alex frowned as she stared at the names, dates and times. This time when the stabbing pain hit her head, she welcomed it. She didn’t know whether to give in to her temper or cry.

“There’s something here,” she whispered. She quickly held up a hand. “I don’t think it’s what they were looking for, but I think you’re right. It has to do with one of my clients.”

Dylan started to get out of his chair, then sat back down again. “Any idea which one?”

She returned to perusing the monitor. “No idea. I feel it when I look at a cluster of five names.”

“Give me the names so we can see what we can find,” he said.

She shook her head. “I need to do this myself, Dylan.” She sensed his withdrawal the moment she said the words. “We’re still talking clients here. The names wouldn’t mean a thing to you.”

“I could run them and see if anything shows up,” he offered. “You were the victim here, Alex.”

“A victim wouldn’t be considered a reliable witness. Any good defense attorney would rightfully attack my spotty memory,” she argued. “I mean it, Dylan. I have to do this myself.”

His jaw worked furiously. “I know you have to work with that damned attorney-client privilege, but I’m a cop, Alex. I have this funny quirk. I like to catch the bad guys.”

She refused to back down. “Then let me do this my way.”

Dylan shook his head. “I guess I was right. Some things never change. You do what you have to do and I’ll do what I have to do. It’s always a choice with you, Alex.” He picked up his coffee cup and walked out to the balcony.

Alex felt the pain streak through her head. You have to make a choice.

She looked at the calendar again, then shut down her computer. She picked up her cup and followed him out to the balcony. Dylan sat in one of the chairs with his feet propped up on the railing. The expression of pained resignation on his face tore at her heart. She walked over to stand in front of him and leaned against the railing. It hurt that he didn’t bother to acknowledge her.

“I don’t want to fight with you, Dylan,” she said softly.

“We’re not fighting.” He was the picture of no emotion and still not looking at her. “I got past that more than two years ago. You made your choice then and it appears you’re doing it again.”

“I’m not making a choice!” She stopped and took a few deep breaths. “I just want this over.”

“So do I.”

This time the stab of pain was in the vicinity of her heart. She didn’t try to touch him for fear of being rejected.

“This goes back to before, doesn’t it? I don’t want that,” she pleaded. “I guess I wanted to show you that even now I can take care of myself.”

“I already knew that, Alex.” Sorrow darkened his eyes. “But you’ve had a lot dumped on you today and this is escalating.”

She nodded. “I admit that scares me, Dylan, but what might or might not happen to us scares me, too.”

“I guess that depends on you, doesn’t it?”

Alex didn’t feel cheered by his words, because she heard a sense of doubt in them. She walked over to the other chair and pulled it around so she could face him.

“I’m not going to walk away this time. I’m going to do what I didn’t do last time. I’m fighting for what I want.”

Dylan’s smile wasn’t the warm, open one she craved—but it was a smile.

“It’s all about choices, Alex.”

“This time, I intend to make the right one.”

Chapter 11

He’s just angry because I chose my career over him.

Alex’s eyes popped open as if the words had been shouted in her ear. She turned her head, but Dylan still slept on. No wonder. They had talked until the early hours of the morning, only stopping long enough for Chinese takeout, then Dylan made love to her as if it were the first time for both of them. She fell asleep with hope warm in her heart that they were well on their way to a whole new start.

She started to roll over to go back to sleep but realized that sleep wasn’t about to return. It was as if a voice inside her was telling her there was something she needed to do and she needed to do it now.

She held her breath as she carefully crept out of the bed. She paused when Dylan mumbled something in his sleep, then rolled over. A moment later he was snoring softly. She smiled at him as she quietly made her way out of the bedroom. As if guided by some unseen force, she headed for her office, making sure to close the door before turning on a lamp sitting on a bookcase by the door. This time she didn’t go to her desk, but to the credenza set behind it against the wall. She slid the door open and dug through a variety of legal pads and notebooks until she found what she was looking for. The manila envelope she pulled out not only held the copy of her divorce papers, but additional papers that she had ignored before and that she knew would hold the answers she had been putting off seeking answers for. She bypassed the desk chair and curled up on the floor, her back resting against the credenza, as she picked up the top page.

It was time for her to find out everything she hadn’t learned before.

Everything he’s done since the divorce has been done to exact a response from me. Now I feel ready to move past all this. I think once I make this one break, Dylan will be able to move on also. I still love the man, but I’ve done irreparable harm there. Something I’ll just have to live with.

“Alimony. One hundred dollars,” she murmured, then felt a stabbing pain along her healing wound that left her gasping. “Another question answered.”

Alex’s hands shook as she leaned forward and set the papers on the floor. A soft whimper left her lips as she clutched her stomach and rolled her body forward until her forehead almost touched the papers. She had no idea how long she sat there, drowning in an indescribable pain as the past washed over her.

No wonder Dylan had resisted her. She had pushed him away so violently it was amazing he had been willing to allow her back into his life. Even more amazing was that he was willing to make a fresh start with her.

Except she had loved him so much when they were first married, and look how she had changed. What if she reverted back to her workaholic self again? She knew she couldn’t put Dylan through that kind of hell again when it could so easily destroy them. If she thought it hurt earlier when all the painful memories returned, she knew it was nothing compared to the agony of giving up the best thing in her life.

She never knew the future could feel so empty.

Dylan liked waking up with Alex in his arms. Then he realized the only weight on him was warm, furry and purring.

He opened one eye and stared at Clarence, who was curled up on Alex’s pillow. He looked past the cat to find a somber Alex sitting in the chair by the window.

“Morning, gorgeous,” he said, greeting her with a warm smile that dimmed when she didn’t return it. “Is something wrong?” The minute he got a better look at her frozen expression and the chill in her eyes, he knew his question was answered.

The old Alex is back.

“You really had me going, Dylan,” she said in the same chilly voice he remembered. “Who knew you had such acting abilities?”

“Yeah, well, I have hidden talents,” he drawled, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He kept his features bland, not revealing the pain he was feeling.

“You must have enjoyed your time here. You found out how to worm your way into my affections. Or maybe just toy with them.” Her eyes looked like shards of green glass. “But playtime is over. I’m no longer scared. I can take care of myself.”

Uncaring of his nudity, Dylan climbed out of bed. He bent down and swept up his jeans and shirt, pulling them on. Nothing in his expression indicated what he was thinking.

“I never doubted you could take care of yourself, Al,” he said flatly. “But you were in danger, and as a cop, I was making sure you were safe. That’s my job.”

“I called Detective Whitmire. It looks like they have a hit on a fingerprint they lifted from my office. That’s good enough for me. I’m returning to my work and taking back my life, which means you no longer need to be involved.” She lifted her chin.

Dylan refused to back down. “Just what the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” She bit out the word, determined not to back down, either.

His eyes turned the color of storm clouds in the dead of winter as he snapped out a pithy opinion of her response. “For some reason, you’re really ticked off at me. I’d like to know why.”

“I never said I was angry at you.” Her gaze was cool. “It’s time for you to go home, Dylan. You go back to your life and I’ll return to mine.”

“Maybe you think everything is fine and dandy, but I don’t. You can’t take any chances with your safety,” he argued instead. “Having a fingerprint doesn’t mean we have the man in custody.”

She remained as still as a statue. “I won’t be taking any chances, but I don’t intend to hide out here like some frightened rabbit,” she said coolly. “I would just feel better doing it my way.”

Every word she said in her cool and precise voice pounded another nail into Dylan’s heart, which had started to crack into tiny pieces the moment he saw that the old Alex was back. He didn’t bother arguing with her. He knew better than to think she would even listen to him.

“You know what, Alex, you are lying your gorgeous head off,” he said finally. “Except this time, you’re hurting yourself. Just remember you’re not invincible.” He sat down on the bed long enough to pull on his boots. At that moment all he cared about was getting the hell out of there before he said something they’d both regret. He reached down, snatched up his duffel bag and made a beeline for the door.

“Oh, Dylan.” He stopped at her chilly tone but didn’t bother to turn around. “I’m sure you saw my accident as a fortunate chance for you, but we are still divorced. Let’s just consider these past few days as closure, shall we?”

Dylan’s jaw worked furiously as he bit back every caustic remark he would have normally made.

“I was crazy to fall in love with you again,” he muttered. “I should just go ahead and commit myself to the nearest padded room.” Still refusing to turn around, he left the room. A moment later, the front door could be heard opening and closing.

Alex stayed seated in the chair until after the front door closed. She slowly rose to her feet and walked over to the bed and sat down, curling up until she sat against the headboard. She picked up Dylan’s pillow and hugged it against her chest, burying her face in the soft cotton, inhaling his scent so she could commit it to memory. She lost track of time as she huddled there in her misery that seemed to seep into her very bones.

“I had to do it,” she whispered. “Better now than later and hurt him all that much more.” She swiped her wet cheeks with the backs of her hands.

A voice inside her head told her she wasn’t in the right frame of mind to make any decisions on something as important as her future with Dylan. She had made errors during their marriage because she’d decided her career was more important. Thinking back, she had no idea why she made such illogical changes in her life instead of considering what was important and sticking with that. She feared whatever had her taking that irrational turn was still lodged in that missing piece of her memory, and she might not ever discover the entire story.

Perhaps she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life after she had been given a second chance. She’d only allowed Dylan to think she had regained her memory. She had used what she read in her file to give him the impression she remembered everything. What he didn’t know was that she took all the papers and ran them through the paper shredder. She never wanted to see them again, nor did she want to see the old Alexandra Spencer again, either.

As she sat there, she knew the best thing she did was to cut ties that could never be mended. She had told Dylan she intended to return to her old life, but she knew that wasn’t possible. It wouldn’t be easy, but it was time for her to take steps to make some important changes in her life.

“Make your choice, Alex,” she murmured, feeling the ache come back as she finally understood the meaning of the words Dylan had thrown at her years ago. She got up from the bed, went into her office and retrieved her client list, then returned to the bedroom and Dylan’s pillow. Using it as a makeshift desk, she studied the list and easily crossed off a good third of the names. She decided that first thing in the morning she would construct a letter to each explaining she was cutting back on her work and would do whatever was necessary to help them in the transition of finding a new attorney. “And this time don’t screw it up.”

As she studied the plan she’d mapped out, she felt the pain start to lessen. She was so engrossed in her task, it took a moment for her to realize her cell phone was ringing. Part of her hoped it was Dylan. Her hopes were dashed when a slightly familiar voice spoke.

“Alexandra, my dear, Garrett Merrill here. I hope you are feeling better now. Your assistant told me you have been under a doctor’s care lately. I hope it was nothing serious.”

“No, Mr. Merrill, nothing serious,” she assured her client. She glanced down at the paper in her lap and realized his was one of the names she’d marked to let go. “Is there something I can do for you?” She hoped that wasn’t the case, since she didn’t feel up to dealing with a man whose mind was faster than a computer.

“I am in Sierra Vista today checking up on my investment property. Since I was here I thought I would see if we could meet.”

Alex realized she had just been handed the perfect chance to talk to him about her plan to cut back on her practice, since he would be one of the clients she would be cutting.

“If it’s all right with you, I could see you at my office in about an hour,” she said, thinking she would need enough time to take a quick shower and pull herself together.

“That would be fine. I will meet you there.”

Alex’s tears started up again when she entered the bathroom and saw the bottle of Dylan’s aftershave sitting on the counter. She picked it up and opened it, holding it to her nose. She closed her eyes and swallowed a sob.

“I can’t hurt him anymore,” she murmured. “I should just leave the area.” But she knew she couldn’t do that just yet. But one thing she would do was draft a request that the alimony payments be stopped. She could at least spare Dylan that embarrassment.

After using what felt like a pound of concealer around and under her eyes, Alex dressed in a pair of jeans and a cotton T-shirt instead of reaching for something dressier. She decided that was another change she was making. Just because she was going into her office on her day off didn’t mean she needed to wear what she’d wear to court. Seeing it was overcast and breezy outside, she searched the closet for a lightweight jacket.

“This needs to go to the cleaners,” she murmured, pulling out the coat she’d last worn the night she was attacked. As she started to put it back on the hanger, she felt a slight weight in one of the pockets. She dug her hand inside and pulled out a CD jewel case. Not recognizing it, she opened up the case and found no label or markings to indicate the contents. “CD,” she whispered in excitement. “This has to be it!” Since she was running late, she dropped it into her purse with the intention of checking it out when she got to her office.

Dylan stopped at his house long enough to shower and change his clothes. Standing at the washer, he pulled all his clothing out of his duffel bag, paused long enough to inhale Alex’s soft powdery scent, which still clung to his shirts, and quickly threw them in the washer to erase all trace of her.

He was furious with himself for walking out when he should have stayed and battled it out with Alex. She might have a degree in argument, but he knew his stubborn streak was just as strong as hers. One way or another, he was going to make her listen to him and he’d make sure to listen to her. He knew once things calmed down they could hash out what happened to cause their marriage to disintegrate. Because he knew Alex didn’t want to end this fledgling beginning any more than he did.

“I’m an idiot.” He poured in soap and turned on the washer. “I let her sucker me in, and man, I fell for it.” He threw his duffel bag in a corner and walked out of the laundry room.

A search of the refrigerator revealed that the contents were better off thrown out. He was too restless to stay inside but had no desire to go anywhere for some breakfast, even if his body reminded him that anger didn’t hold off hunger. Each time he thought of Alex he had to resist putting his fist through a wall.

“Give her time to cool off,” he decided. “Let her see that compromises can be made. We didn’t bother trying last time. We should be smarter now. I’m not letting that stubborn little witch throw it all away.” Making a plan helped keep his frustration at bay as he finally decided he might as well stop by Tank’s Diner for breakfast. He doubted he’d be lucky enough for Tank not to ask where Alex was.

As he picked up his truck keys he was aware his cell phone was vibrating. Hoping it was Alex, he flipped it open.

“Parker.”

“It’s Whitmire. We have the men who attacked Ms. Spencer in custody,” the detective announced.

Dylan started running to his truck. “I’m on my way.”

He wasn’t sure what he expected when he walked into the interrogation room. Certainly not a man named Leonard Hart who looked more like a bespectacled accountant than your run-of-the-mill thug. Then the man lifted his face and Dylan got a good look at his eyes.

Stone cold went through his mind. The bastard would have snapped her neck without a second thought.

“Mr. Hart, I’m Detective Parker,” he said conversationally, taking one of the chairs, turning it around and sitting down, resting his arms along the back. The moment he sat down he noticed the strong smell of cigarettes coming from the man’s clothing.

He reeked of cigarette smoke. Alex’s words came to mind.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me or are you playing the fed wannabe’s easygoing partner that I’m supposed to trust?” the man asked in a voice that was devoid of all emotion. “Ain’t gonna work.”

Dylan shrugged, determined to stick with the laid-back cop attitude even if he secretly wanted to crush the SOB under his heel. “Just trying to be polite,” he said amiably. “Too bad you missed a couple of spots when you cleaned off the luggage, then the Camry, Leonard. Or was it your buddy who slipped up?” Not by a flicker of an eyelash did the man betray his thoughts. But Dylan wouldn’t give up. “I’d say you’ve been flying under the radar for some time. You got out of the army, what, ten years ago? Not once during that time were you picked up. But we’re stubborn like that. We can’t find you in one place, we’ll look elsewhere. And now we’ve got you.”

The man’s eyes were still devoid of emotion as they swung around to stare at Dylan. “I don’t need a buddy, Detective. I don’t need to watch the bad cop/good cop routine. Do us both a favor and don’t waste your breath.” He swung back to contemplate his hands, resting on the tabletop.

“Gee, sounds like you watch a lot of Law & Order.” Dylan was determined to be nice even if it killed him. “But I think you must have missed a few episodes.” His smile wasn’t the least bit friendly. “You see, Leonard, you already saw the good cop. Now you have Alexandra Spencer’s husband.” He figured Alex would forgive him the lie if it got him the information they needed. “Yeah, the lady you’ve been terrorizing is married to a cop who doesn’t like hearing someone’s been scaring his wife. Talk about a bad idea. You screwed up more than once, and we’re going to make sure you pay for it big-time. Thanks to the charges we’ve got on you I’d say you will be going away for a very long time. You killed that old lady, Leonard,” he continued in a soft voice edged with steel. “You were the reason she died as surely as if you’d put a gun to her head. Murder carries a hefty penalty in this state.”

A whiff of cigarettes assaulted Dylan’s senses as the man faced him again.

“That’s only if I actually killed someone.”

Dylan already knew this man wasn’t going to give up information easily. What made it worse was a dangerous tingling along the back of his neck that screamed for him to hurry. He leaned forward until he invaded the other man’s personal space. He was privately gratified to see the man didn’t like it. “She died, Leonard,” he said in a low voice. “You and your buddy are going to be charged with her death. Then you trashed my wife’s office.” He tsked softly. “It doesn’t look good for you, Leonard. Not good at all. No privacy, those small cells. No freedom.”

The suspect’s lip curled. “I’ll tell you one thing. I ain’t getting paid enough to go down for everything when it wasn’t my idea to begin with. He won’t pay my legal bills.”

Dylan saw his chance and ran with it. “You’ve got a kid, Leonard. Is the boss going to take care of your son, too, or will he leave you out to hang? You’re no dummy. Do you really want to go away for years while your boss is out there living the high life?” He took a chance, since he guessed that someone with Leonard’s experience wouldn’t have come cheap.

Leonard’s face tightened. “You and I both know there’s no way in hell you can get him. He’s got way too much money and too many lawyers to go anywhere but back to his fancy house.”

“Did he tell you to try to run Alexandra Spencer down in the street that day?” Dylan snarled.

The man’s face paled. “No! That was an accident, I swear. We were told not to hurt her. The boss just wanted his stuff back. He hoped she hadn’t read anything because he said she was a good lawyer.”

“What did he want back?” Dylan demanded. “What were you looking for?”

“A CD. That’s all the boss told us,” Leonard said reluctantly. “It has all his records on it.”

“What records?” His impatience was growing as his fear level ratcheted skyward. He remembered he and Alex looking through the CDs in her briefcase but not finding anything odd there. So where was this CD?

“What do I get out of this?” The man saw his chance to strike a deal.

“I don’t make deals. That’s up to the D.A., but I’m sure he’ll be happier with you if you’re up front with us.” Dylan resisted the urge to reach across the table and throttle the little weasel.

Leonard pulled in a deep breath. “The boss runs high-class hookers. He doesn’t think we know, but his wife is my sister and she found out. She said she could hold it over him if she ever decides to divorce him. He has lots of clients overseas who like to have pretty women around. These clients will pay a lot of money for them and they don’t care if the women are willing or not. He lets everyone think he’s some high-society SOB because my sister likes all the prestige. But she’s real high maintenance and so are his mistress and his girlfriend. Plus, he just likes to make a lot of money.”

“That sounds more like you thinking you can pull something over on us, Leonard, by telling us your boss traffics in white slavery. You wouldn’t do that, would you?” He pretended indifference.

Leonard made a face. “My wife took off when our kid was two, and if I go to prison my sister would take him. I don’t want that bastard anywhere near my son.”

“Then give us a name,” Dylan demanded, all patience now gone as his imagination shot out pictures of what could happen to Alex if this idiot’s boss got hold of her. “No more dancing around.”

The man took one look at Dylan’s face and shuddered. “Garrett Merrill. He’s a big client of Ms. Spencer’s.”

Dylan stood up and reached for his cell phone. He needed to call Alex. He looked at Detective Whitmire, who was smiling as he walked into the room. “He’s all yours.”

“Thanks.” But Dylan was already out the door and running down the hall as he listened to the ringing on the other end switch to voice mail. He tried her cell phone next with the same result. He muttered curses as he ran out of the building.

When Alex stepped into the lobby of her office, she noticed the reception desk was empty and a man was seated on a nearby chair. She easily guessed he was her client when he immediately rose to his feet and walked out with his hand outstretched. She noted he was clad in a tailored Italian suit and hand-sewn loafers. He arched an eyebrow at her casual clothing.

She smiled and allowed him to engulf her hand in his two in a warm clasp.

“It’s good to see you again, Mr. Merrill,” she lied, since she still had no clue who he truly was, other than seeing his name and the work she’d done on his behalf detailed in her files.

“I was so sorry to hear you were ill,” he said with old-fashioned courtesy. “I trust you are better now.”

“Much,” she assured him with a warm smile she discovered she had to force. She looked around the lobby and felt a hint of unease at finding it empty. “Odd, I don’t see our security guard.”

“Ah.” He looked embarrassed. “The poor man had something a little too heavy for lunch,” he confided. “He said he would be back in a moment.”

Alex nodded and led him back to the elevators. She pulled out her electronic key card to activate the elevator.

“The offices are closed today, but thanks to computer networking, a lot of us have started working more out of our home offices.”

The man nodded his understanding.

Alex switched on lights as they crossed the reception area and went back to her office. She gestured toward a chair as she walked around her desk.

“I’m afraid I’m still working on getting myself back up to speed,” she said, reaching into her desk and pulling out a legal pad. “Was there something we hadn’t gone over when I was in your office?”

He settled back in the chair and smiled. “Just a few minor points I happened to think of when I arrived in the city here. That’s why I’m grateful you were willing to see me so we can clear them up now.”

“Actually, I was going to contact you on Monday.” She decided to just get it over with. “I have decided to cut back on my workload. The best way to do that is to eliminate my clients in the city. If you would like some recommendations I can easily provide you with names, and I will do everything in my power to make it an easy transfer.”

The man looked startled, then appeared a trace suspicious. “I must say I didn’t expect this.”

“I’ve come to realize that I need to slow down and make some lifestyle changes,” she explained.

“Any particular reason why?” he asked in his quiet voice, which she now swore had a hint of menace to it.

Alex thought it an odd question. While she realized she didn’t remember everything, she did know that she didn’t make it a habit of discussing her private life with any client.

“No.” Now she knew this meeting was a mistake. She should have told him she couldn’t meet him and spent the day indulging in her misery. As she sat back in her chair, a clicking noise was heard as her pocket hit the chair arm. She remembered the CD and pulled it out. At the same time the question rose in her mind as to how he knew her cell phone number since she didn’t give it out to clients. They always had to go through Janet, who forwarded the call to Alex’s cell phone. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. Something was very wrong.

Mr. Merrill’s eyes remained fixed on the case. “So that’s where it was.” He smiled with delight as he reached forward to pick the case out of her hand. “My secretary was in tears, positive she had somehow lost that CD. She had a year’s worth of work on it.”

Alex’s grip tightened on the case. Inside her mind’s eye she saw it all in super speed. She was making her goodbyes to Mr. Merrill as she picked up papers and put them in her briefcase. From there she’d headed straight for the airport. As she’d waited for her flight to Sierra Vista she found the CD and popped it into her notebook computer. It was easy for her to see that she was looking at neatly laid out records of offshore bank accounts, along with files with detailed information on women and obscene amounts of money.

Dylan would have a field day if he heard about this. On the heels of the words was a sharp stabbing pain to the side of her head.

“What were you doing?” she blurted out, without her usual habit of first thinking things through.

Mr. Merrill continued smiling as if he were there for nothing more than a casual impromptu meeting.

“I am sure you can understand that I do not care to go into something that is really none of your business, Alexandra,” he said smoothly. “After all, I have done my best to ensure you remained unaware of my secondary business.”

“Which doesn’t mean a thing when this comes out,” she argued. “You sell women!” She felt bile start to rise up in her throat.

“And it has nothing to do with you,” he reiterated.

“Unfortunately, it does.” She gasped as she saw a small gun leveled at her. “This is not a good idea.” She tightened her hold on the case, but he pulled harder and regained his property.

“I was afraid I would have to find a way to get you out of here so I could search your office,” he said. “Of course, if my men hadn’t been so incompetent I would not have had to make this trip up here.” He flicked a piece of lint off his sleeve while keeping his gun aimed at her chest.

Alex couldn’t keep her eyes off the black barrel. They’re wrong. Your life doesn’t flash before your eyes, she thought hysterically.

“I am relieved you made it so easy for me. I have been quite upset at having to wait so long for my property and I am sorry you saw that information. Of course, as my attorney, you can’t do anything about it. I need to access those accounts and the information I require is on this CD.” He didn’t miss her look of disgust. “It isn’t as if I deal in drug trafficking or worse. The women I provide to exclusive clientele have extremely comfortable lives.”

Alex opened her mouth, prepared to scream her lungs out.

“We’re alone,” he reminded her. “I am afraid your security guard downstairs had an accident. Oh, he isn’t dead, but that is only because he didn’t see me. All anyone will know is that you apparently came into your office for something and must have disturbed a burglar. After everything that has happened to you recently, no one will be surprised. Nothing will be traced back to me. I do apologize that you have to be the victim in this. I always felt you were an excellent attorney.”

Alex spat out a reply that surprised the man. She was determined not to make it easy for him.

I’m sorry, Dylan. Sorrow briefly washed over her. She should have told him she’d never stopped loving him and now she’d never have that chance. She raised her chin.

“You’ll never get away with this,” she said coolly. “My husband is more than a cop. He’s like a bloodhound. He won’t stop until he’s tracked you down. When he finds you, he’ll tear you apart with his bare hands and that will only be the beginning.” Her calm voice belied the trembling in her hands, which she kept hidden under her desk.

Dylan didn’t need to see the empty desk in the lobby to know something was very wrong. A quick search revealed the guard unconscious and tied up in a closet. After making sure the man was still breathing, he ran for the elevators, swore under his breath when he found them nonoperational and sprinted for the stairs. Deep in his gut he knew something was wrong. He hoped he’d get up there in time.

He had no concept of time or place as he raced through the reception area, then slowed down as he neared Alex’s office. He could hear her voice, calm but with something underlying it, as if something unexpected was going on in there.

She said my husband is a cop, not ex-husband.

“I love you, darlin’,” he whispered, pulling out his weapon and making his move.

Alex’s eyes widened in horror when he appeared in the doorway, and Mr. Merrill spun around. “Dylan, no!” she shouted as he came in. “He has a gun!”

Dylan’s breath left him in an oopf! as the other man rushed him.

“Get out of here, Alex!” Dylan shouted, struggling with the man. He grunted when the man’s fist buried itself in his stomach. He retaliated with a head butt to the chin that sent the man staggering back.

She ignored his order and picked up a vase off a bookcase and held it high, ready to throw it.

Dylan only had to think of seeing that gun trained on Alex to know he wanted this man to feel some pain. He just didn’t expect a man wearing a designer suit to fight dirty. But Dylan remembered what he saw in the emergency room. He remembered Alex’s fear and insecurity. It gave him more power than he needed. Another well-placed punch and Merrill was lying unconscious on the floor. He felt a sharp pain along his ribs as he straightened up.

“Are you okay?” he asked, making his way over to Alex, who’d dropped down onto the small couch. She still held the vase in her hands.

She swallowed several times and opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Dylan crouched down in front of her, plucked the vase out of her hands, then covered her hands with his. He found them cold to the touch.

“Talk to me, Alex,” he said softly, rubbing her hands between his. “Just tell me you’re okay. Nod your head. Blink. Anything,” he pleaded. “I need to know you’re okay.”

“He was behind everything,” she whispered. “He wanted a CD I had accidentally picked up in his office.”

“I have to secure him and call for a car to pick him up,” he said softly. He straightened up and got out his handcuffs and cell phone. Once he had the man handcuffed to the credenza he made his call and requested an ambulance.

“He did something to Ray!” she said suddenly. “The security guard downstairs.”

Dylan nodded. “I found him. He’s going to have a whopper of a headache, but he’s okay. I called for a paramedic so they can check him out.”

Alex licked her lips. “He sells women.” Disgust colored her voice. “It’s all on the CD. I looked at it when I was waiting for my flight back here, realized what was there and knew there was trouble ahead. I was thinking about that when I was hit. And I was thinking about you.” She unconsciously lifted her hand and touched her healing wound. “I had no idea, Dylan,” she insisted with tears in her eyes. “I was such a fool.”

“Hey, some guys hide stuff really well,” he soothed. “We’ll get it straightened out, you’ll see.”

She looked past him toward Merrill, who groaned and stirred. “I guess I won’t be able to collect any fees still due me,” she laughed feebly before she burst into tears.

Detective Whitmire and several patrol officers showed up to take over the scene. Alex was taken to the police station so she could give her statement. She repeated her story to more than one detective while drinking coffee that tasted as if it had been on a warming coil for the past month. She hadn’t seen Dylan since he put her under the care of a woman patrol officer, who drove her to the station and stayed with her during all the questioning. She would have preferred that Dylan stay with her, but she understood he had a job to do. She wanted to see him alone and tell him everything she truly felt.

She crossed her hands on top of the table and rested her cheek against them. She had dropped into a light doze when the door opened. She was vaguely aware of someone crouched down beside her and a hand stroking her hair.

“Hey, wanna get out of here?” Dylan asked in a low voice that caressed her raw nerves. He stood up and held out a hand.

“Yes, please,” she whispered, placing her hand in his and allowing him to pull her to her feet. She was dazed as he guided her out of the station and out to his truck.

“Are you hungry?” he asked as he drove out of the station parking lot.

She placed her hand against her stomach as it rolled around at the mention of food. “No.”

He took a hand off the steering wheel and squeezed her fingers. She was grateful he didn’t coax her to talk. She was positive she’d done enough talking for the next month.

“Would you please wake me up when it’s next year?” she asked wearily.

Dylan chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

When they entered her condo, she walked around, touching various pieces of furniture.

“I bought this and the throw pillows at Creative Decor six months ago.” She picked up a porcelain figurine then ran her fingers over the table it sat on. “But I still don’t remember when and where I got this. I guess I could check my credit card statements.” She sat on the couch, sitting forward with her arms resting on her thighs. She looked up. “Please, sit down. I need to tell you something.” She took a deep, shuddering breath and raised her face so she could face him. “I lied to you this morning,” she began. “Well not lied, exactly, but I didn’t tell you the whole truth. I don’t know all the details from our divorce, just what I’ve read in my journal. But I’ve read enough to realize that I was the cause of a lot of our problems. I decided I needed to focus on making partner and that meant putting you in this small compartment. I was convinced you would understand. I refused to see what I was doing to you and to our marriage. I know it sounds crazy, but I was a different person then. An unlikable person.”

“A person who didn’t stop to think she could have it all,” he pointed out.

She nodded. “These past few days have been good for me. Even though I was scared and confused, in some odd way I was better off. I pushed you away because I was afraid I would turn into that same obsessive person. I couldn’t do that to you again.” She used her fingers to brush her tears away.

Dylan pulled a tissue out of his jeans pocket and leaned over to dab her cheeks again.

“Did you really think I was going to take your lofty dismissal this morning?” He continued to mop her face. “I was going to give you time to cool off, then I was going to show up and sweep you off your feet and back into my life.”

Her lips quivered. “Really?”

Dylan nodded. “At first at the ER I thought it was some kind of sick joke. Then I saw your face, that you were well and truly scared. I knew I was a goner.” He threaded his fingers through her hair. “I told you I wasn’t going to leave you and I meant it.”

“I’m eliminating a lot of my clients,” she babbled. “And I want to have a full life, not a shallow one.”

He smiled. “Just as long as you remember me.”

“I’ll never forget you,” Alex vowed, but there was still a tiny bubble of fear inside her. “I don’t want to turn into the monster I was.”

Dylan got off the chair and moved over to sit next to her, wrapping his arms around her. “Then we’ll work together to make sure it doesn’t happen, but you know what? I don’t think it will happen. You’ve changed a lot these past days, Alex. You know what you want. Luckily, it’s me.” He grinned. “I love you, Al. You’re stubborn, detail-oriented, a bit crazy at times, and maybe that’s why. I never know what to expect.”

“I don’t want to lose you again, Dylan,” she whispered.

“You won’t.” He settled back against the cushions, keeping her curled up next to him. “We’ll take it day by day. How soon can you leave this sterile excuse for a condo and move in with me?”

She felt that fear bubble burst and joy take over. “Move in?”

“Sure. I’ll let you bring Clarence, but that’s all.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head, then lifted her chin for a deeper kiss. It wasn’t long before his polo shirt was tossed onto a nearby chair while Alex’s T-shirt ended up draped over a lamp and her jeans partially covered the television screen. “Just one thing?” He nuzzled her neck as he unclipped her bra. “About that alimony payment that’s past due?”

She straight-armed him before the rest of him could get any closer. “Don’t push it, Dylan.”

One month later

“How many people find bags of gold coins in their backyard?” Dylan commented as he followed Alex into the living room.

“They’re very lucky.” Alex dropped onto the couch and kicked off her turquoise high-heeled slides. She released a blissful sigh when Dylan sat beside her and turned her around so that her feet rested comfortably in his lap, where he could massage her bare toes.

“All right, all right, I should have worn flats,” she admitted. “I thought a barbecue meant a backyard. I didn’t know it could also mean dirt and rocks and things.”

“No complaining on my part.”

“That’s because you were too busy looking at my legs,” she teased him.

Dylan grinned at her, always happy to see Alex relaxed and enjoying life. He swore each time he looked at her he again realized why he’d fallen in love with her all over again. After leaving corporate law and Will Zane’s office, Alex opened a storefront office where she saw clients who normally couldn’t afford the services of an attorney of her caliber. He claimed she’d found her niche and she’d never looked happier. She’d moved back into their house that very night and they made sure to talk things over every night. Now he knew she had felt she had to emulate her parents, which was why she worked so hard to get ahead. Now that she knew she didn’t, their lives were a lot easier.

Alex’s memory still hadn’t fully returned, but she no longer obsessed over it. She declared it was her chance to have a new life and she was going to enjoy it. So far, they’d done their share of enjoying each other.

They had spent the day at Jared and Rachel Stryker’s ranch for the couple’s belated wedding reception.

But for now, Dylan was happy to have Alex to himself. He considered her a sexy vision in a pair of turquoise capris, a turquoise-and-white-swirled T-shirt that showed just a hint of her flat belly and turquoise high-heeled slides that made her legs look a mile long. He was looking forward to pulling that sassy clip out of her hair and watching her hair tumble down around her shoulders and seeing her wearing only those sexy shoes. He pulled her legs over his lap to bring her closer to him as he dipped his head and stole a kiss that quickly heated up. Her laughter bubbled up as she returned his kiss with equal fervor.

“So what’s next, Mr. Parker?” she asked in a husky whisper.

Dylan stood and scooped Alex up in his arms. She laughed heartily and wrapped her arms around his neck. A gold-and-diamond band sparkled on her left hand while an etched band gleamed on his.

“I’m going to guarantee you the absolute best rest of your life you can ever imagine, Mrs. Parker.” He touched his nose to hers and she smiled.

“It sounds perfect.”

ISBN: 978-1-4268-6309-7

MEMORIES AFTER MIDNIGHT

Copyright © 2006 by Words by Wisdom

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