A Stranger She Can Trust. Regan Black

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СКАЧАТЬ The best term for it is trauma-induced amnesia.”

      “That’s what you think is wrong with me?”

      “Without better testing, I can give you only my best guess.” He turned down another street and then into an alley tucked between rows of tall houses with only the occasional light in a window to give signs of life.

      “And people recover? They remember who they are?”

      He slowed down a bit more. “I don’t usually hear the end of the story.” He reached up and pressed a button over the rearview mirror. The big garage door opened, a light coming on inside. “My job is to stabilize patients so they can be transported and turned over to a doctor’s care.” He backed into the garage and cut the engine, hitting the button again to lower the door.

      Another shiver raced over her skin at the mention of a doctor. Her palms went damp and her breath backed up in her lungs. “Guess I don’t like being closed in.”

      “We won’t be for long.” He opened his door, and light flooded the truck. “That’s an important detail you’ve remembered.”

      She slid out of the truck and straightened her skirt. “Do you live alone?” she asked as they walked across the narrow backyard to his house. Some distant part of her mind thought she should be wary of heading into a stranger’s home, but her intuition overrode that.

      “Yes. If that’s a problem, I can call one of my sisters.”

      “No.” She didn’t want to meet anyone, not looking like this and not at almost three in the morning. “Well, yes, I’m uncomfortable, but don’t do that.”

      Something in his face clouded over, and he seemed so sad, although she couldn’t figure out why she would recognize that emotion in him when she didn’t recognize her clothes, her reflection or any aspect of her circumstances.

      He opened the back door and flipped the switch on the wall, flooding a gorgeous kitchen with light. It was decorated in muted blue tones and pops of sunny yellow. “There’s one better option,” he said, giving her a long look.

      She knew that he meant the hospital and he believed she’d be better cared for there. Thankfully he didn’t say the words again. She stepped closer to the central island, admiring the clean lines and tidiness of his kitchen.

      “The full house tour can wait.” He led her toward the front of the house, up the stairs, pointing out a bathroom on the way to a guest room with twin beds on either side of a centered window, covered by a decorated pull-down shade. He walked into the room and turned on a bedside lamp.

      The soft glow lent a cozy atmosphere to the room, at odds with the strange turmoil in her head. Unless she’d lost her sense of direction as well as her memory, the view through the window would overlook the backyard. “This is...” Too many emotions clogged her throat. His kindness and compassion and generosity overwhelmed her. “Thank you,” she managed after a moment.

      “No problem. I’ll get you something to sleep in.” She hovered at the doorway while he moved to the opposite end of the hall and disappeared into another room, returning quickly with a T-shirt and sweatpants. “Probably too big for you. I’m sure my sisters left something closer to your size. They use my place for wardrobe overflow. Feel free to check the closet or dresser for better options.”

      She took the clothing he offered. “Thank you.”

      He tucked his hands into his pockets. “Anything you need, just ask. I’ll be checking on you a few times through what’s left of the night.”

      “You will?”

      “Just a precaution. You might not even notice.”

      He’d mentioned that. Or Grant had. Not that it mattered. Exhaustion pushed at her from every side, and she thought it might be easier to give in and fold to the pressure. “You have to do it?” She was torn between wanting to be alone and being terrified of the same situation.

      “Yes.” He backed up a step, hand on the doorknob. “Get some rest. I’m right down the hall.”

      Rest. What an easy thing to say, but she didn’t think it would be nearly as easy to accomplish despite her rampant fatigue. With the clothing in her arms, she sat down on the edge of the nearest bed. The fabric smelled freshly laundered, and under that, she caught a whiff of the man who’d helped her. Carson.

      He had a crisp, honest scent. The scent of safety, she thought. Curling up on top of the denim-colored bedspread, she hugged the clothing close to her chest and stopped trying to think about the infinite details and information missing from her mind.

       Chapter 2

      Carson slept in short cycles, much as he did during the overnight rotations on the ambulance rig. Observation protocol wasn’t fun for either the injured person or the one doing the checking, but it had to be done for her safety.

      The first time he’d gone into her room, he worried about startling her, but she hadn’t yet fallen asleep. Or changed into the T-shirt and sweats he’d given her. In her position, he probably wouldn’t have done that, either. Though he tried, he couldn’t imagine the challenge of her situation and her complete lack of self-history and awareness.

      The remainder of the night went on in a similar fashion, with him padding down the hall and rousing her gently, exchanging a few words and then heading back to his room. He’d chosen a few questions she could answer with her limited memory, and her answers were consistent with each check. While that was great news for her health, he’d breathe easier if she would agree to be seen by professionals.

      He recognized his frustration stemmed from the invasion of privacy. He hadn’t had a woman stay over since well before the ambulance was ambushed, and his current houseguest was about as far removed from a date with a happy, sexy ending as a man could get. She was, in essence, a patient, and more than once as the hours ticked toward dawn, he was grumpy that Grant hadn’t sent her home with one of the women on staff at the club.

      At the 8:00 a.m. check, he let her curl up and go back to sleep while he returned to his bathroom to shower and shave. After tugging on comfortable jeans and a shirt emblazoned with the logo from the last 5K he’d run for a charity event, he opened his bedroom door.

      The woman—his patient—stood there looking lost, her hand raised to knock. Her bruises stood out in stark relief against her skin, and he mentally ran down options to reduce the swelling. “You’re awake.” He gave her his best reassuring-paramedic smile.

      “I am,” she agreed. “Thanks for keeping tabs on me.”

      “Just doing my job,” he said quickly. He didn’t want more thanks. He wanted to hand her off to a qualified doctor. “Are you hungry?”

      Her warm brown eyes lit up as she held a hand to her midriff. “Yes, I am.”

      That was another good sign. “Any memories come back to you yet?”

      She gave a small shake of her head and pushed her hands into the pockets of her denim jacket. He suspected she was clutching the business card and matchbook.

      “I’ll get some breakfast going.” He’d make something СКАЧАТЬ