A Husband To Remember. Lisa Jackson

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      The card had been opened. Pinned to a huge white bow, it read: “All my love, Trent.” These flowers were from that hard-edged man who claimed he was married to her? Nikki tried to imagine Trent McKenzie, in a florist’s shop, browsing over vases of cut lilies, bachelor’s buttons and orchids. She couldn’t. The man who’d camped out in her hospital room was tough and suspicious and had a cruel streak in his eyes. No way would he have sent flowers. And no way would she have married him.

      But why would he lie?

      If only she could remember. Her head began to throb again.

      Somewhere down the hallway a patient moaned and a woman was softly weeping. Bells clanged and footsteps hurried through the hushed corridors. Several people passed by the doorway, all with black hair and dark skin, natives of this island off the coast of Venezuela. When Trent had mentioned Salvaje to her, Nikki had flashed upon a mental picture of the tropical island. The picture had been from a brochure that touted Salvaje as a garden paradise, a quaint tropical island. There had been pictures, small captioned photographs of white, sandy beaches, lush, dense foliage, happy natives and breathtakingly beautiful jagged cliffs that seemed to rise from the sea. Nikki’s pulse skyrocketed as she remembered a final photo in the brochure, a picture of an abandoned mission, built hundreds of years ago at the highest point of the island. The mission with the crumbling bell tower and weathered statue of the Madonna. The mission in her nightmare.

      She convulsed, her heart hammering. What was she doing here on Salvaje, and why did this man, the only other American she’d seen, claim to be her husband? If only she could remember! She slammed her eyes shut, fighting against the bleak emptiness in her brain, and heard the steady click of boot heels against the tile.

      He was back. Her body tensed in fear, but she forced her eyes open and told herself that he’d inadvertently given her a glimpse of her memory when he had mentioned Salvaje, the Wild Island, and if she could, she should try to get him to give her more information, hoping that any little piece might trigger other recollections.

      He strode to her bed, towering over her with his cynical demeanor and lying eyes. Nikki, tied to the rails, forced to lie under a thin sheet and blanket, felt incredibly vulnerable, and she knew instinctively that she hadn’t felt this way before the fall. “Dr. Padillo has been called,” Trent said with a little less rancor. “He’ll be here within the hour. Then maybe we can get you out of here.”

      “Where will we go?”

      “Back to the hotel and pack our bags. Then we’ll grab the first flight to Seattle as soon as you’re well enough to travel.”

      Seattle. Home was the Pacific Northwest. She almost believed him. “We have a house there?” she asked, and she noticed the hardening of his jaw, the slight hesitation in his gaze.

      “I have a house. You have an apartment, but we planned that you’d move your things over to my place once we returned.”

      “We...we got married in Seattle?”

      His gaze, blue and hard, searched hers, as if he suspected that she was somehow trying to trip him up.

      “By a justice of the peace. A quick ceremony before we came here for our honeymoon.”

      No big wedding? An elopement? What about her family—her parents? Surely they were still alive. Her stomach knotted as she tried to concentrate on Seattle—the city on Puget Sound. In her mind’s eye she saw gray water, white ferries and sea gulls wheeling in a cloud-filled sky. Memories? Or a postcard she’d received from some acquaintance?

      Trent rubbed his shoulder muscles, as if he ached from his vigil. She watched the movement of his hands along his neck and wondered if those very hands—tanned and callused—had touched her in intimate places. Had they scaled her ribs, slid possessively along her thigh, cupped her nape and drawn her to him in a passion as hot as a volcano? And had she, in return, touched him, kissed him, made love to him? Had she fingered the thick black strands of his hair where it brushed his nape? Had she boldly slid her hand beneath the waistband of his worn jeans? She bit her lip in frustration. True, Trent was sexy and male and dangerous, and yet...if she’d made love to him, if her naked body had twined with his, wouldn’t she remember?

      He turned to face her, catching her staring at his back, and for a second his hard shell faded and a spark of regret flashed in his eyes. Nikki’s lungs tightened and she could barely breathe, for beneath the regret, she also saw the hint of physical desire. He glanced quickly away, as if the emotions registering in his eyes betrayed him.

      “Who are you, really?” she asked.

      His jaw slid to the side. “You honestly don’t remember me?”

      “Why would I lie?”

      “Why would I?”

      She lifted the fingers of her left hand just a little, wiggling her ringless fingers.

      His lips thinned. “Hospital rules. Your jewelry, including your wedding ring, is in the safe.”

      “No tan line.”

      “No time for a tan. We just got here when you fell.”

      “I fell?”

      “On the cliffs by the old mission. You’re lucky to be alive, Nikki. I thought...you could have been killed.”

      Fear took a stranglehold of her throat. “I don’t remember,” she lied, not wanting to hear any confirmation that her nightmare had been real, that the terror-riddled dream that had chased her in her sleep wasn’t a figment of her overactive imagination.

      The back of her throat tasted acrid. “Were you chasing me up on the ridge?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.

      He hesitated, but only for a heartbeat. “You were alone, Nikki,” he said, and she knew he was lying through his beautiful white teeth. “There was no one else.”

      “Where were you?”

      “Waiting. At the mission. I saw you fall.” His face went chalk-white, as if he relived a horrid memory. “I think it would be best...for you...to go home. You’d feel safer and forget the accident.”

      Accident? The breath of fear blew through her insides, and she wished she could run again, that her body would support her and she could get away...to...where?

      “I don’t think I’d feel safer—”

      “But you would be. With me.”

      “I don’t even know you,” she said, stark terror beginning to seize her throat.

      Sighing, he shoved a hand through his unruly mane. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this. The doctor doesn’t want you getting upset.”

      Her patience snapped and she threw caution to the wind. “I can’t remember anything! I don’t remember my life, my job, my parents, my family, and I certainly don’t remember you! I’m already way past upset!”

      His mouth twisted heartlessly as his cruel mask slipped easily back into place. “I think we’d better wait for Padillo. See what he has to say.”

      There was an edge to his voice that caused sweat to gather at her nape. She couldn’t remember the СКАЧАТЬ