The Bride with No Name. Marie Ferrarella

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      She stopped before the car, waiting for him to unlock it. “And since I don’t know who I am, I don’t have any medical insurance.” She saw him look up at her. He seemed a great deal happier than she did. “Why are you grinning like that?”

      Aiming his key at the car, he pressed a button and disarmed the vehicle’s security system. All four locks sprang to attention. “You just remembered that you need medical insurance.”

      She paused for a second before getting into the Mustang. She felt a great deal less pleased about this supposed breakthrough. “You’re right, I did. But if I can remember something that trivial, why can’t I remember who the hell I am?”

      Opening his car door, Trevor got in. She followed suit on her side. “Maybe you don’t want to.”

      She frowned. “That’s ridiculous. Why wouldn’t I want to remember who I am?”

      Psychology wasn’t his thing—that belonged to Kate and his brother Trent. But he’d heard enough about the topic at home to venture an educated guess. “Maybe you’re running from something. Something that involves who you are.”

      Her frown deepened. “That’s a little far-fetched, isn’t it?”

      Inserting the key into the ignition, Trevor shrugged. “Just a thought.” He glanced at her. “You remembered to buckle up.”

      Her irritation increased. Did he think she was a child in need of endless encouragement? “All right, I get it. I remember some things. Some general things,” she emphasized. It was in the same category as remembering how to walk and talk. “You don’t have to keep pointing those things out.”

      He started up the car. “Just trying to give you some hope, Venus.”

      Guilt assaulted her. She was being waspish again—and he was being nice and definitely going out of his way for her. He didn’t have to be doing any of this. “Are you sure I don’t know you?”

      Leaving the lot, he made a left turn, easing onto Pacific Coast Highway. The hospital, Blair Memorial, wasn’t far. “I’m sure.”

      It didn’t make any sense to her. Something told her that she was accustomed to people who didn’t go out of their way for anyone. The thought made her sad. “If you don’t know me, then why are you going out of your way like this?”

      “Can’t very well save your life then just say, ‘See ya,’ and go on my way, now can I?”

      Why couldn’t he? she wondered. “Wouldn’t most people?”

      “I don’t know people like that.” Coming to a red light, he eased onto the brake and spared her a look. “But you obviously do.”

      She became defensive without knowing why. “How do you know that?”

      “Because you wouldn’t have asked that question if you didn’t,” he told her simply. “It wouldn’t have been in your ‘general’ frame of reference.” He emphasized the word she’d balked at previously.

      She thought about it for a minute. Without knowing it, he’d hit upon the same thought she’d had, except that hers involved an uneasy feeling. “That’s pretty good. You always this logical?”

      Being creative, he’d never thought about being logical. But he did now. He realized logic pretty much dictated a good portion of his life. Unlike Travis, he didn’t act first then think later. He did it the other way around—except when it had come to rescuing Venus. He’d reacted rather than reasoned. But, looking back, he supposed logic came into play even there. Because if he’d stood by and done nothing, her life—and death—would have weighed heavily on his conscience.

      But he didn’t want to get into a discussion about himself. It was her they needed to identify, not him.

      “Mostly,” he admitted.

      She nodded her head. She appeared complacent, but then she challenged him. This was a woman to keep you on your toes, he noted.

      “Then tell me how you can logically take me to a hospital to be checked out when I have no money and no identity?” she asked. “They’re going to want to get paid.”

      “Don’t worry about that.” He could feel her eyes on him. The woman obviously wanted details. He deliberately remained vague, not wanting to get into an argument. She was already displaying more than the average share of pride. “I’ll take care of it.”

      Which meant he was going to pay for her care out of his own pocket—unless he owned a hospital as well as a restaurant.

      “If I’m a stranger to you, why would you do that?” she asked.

      Because he’d been raised to lend a helping hand when he could. But he had feeling if he told her that, it would sound too much like charity. “In some cultures, if you save a life, it’s yours. That means you have to take care of it.”

      Venus shook her head. “This isn’t one of those cultures.”

      “Something else you know,” he said cheerfully. He had no idea why he was enjoying himself so much, but he was. “You can pay me back when your memory returns,” he told her. He slanted a look in her direction, then turned back to the road. “That satisfy you?”

      “I guess it’ll have to.”

      She thought for a moment, then examined at his profile, wondering if she’d just had some kind of a breakthrough. The rest of her mind still felt tangled. But right now, a few fragments floated through her brain. Fragments that seemed familiar, even though she couldn’t harness them. It was all too vague. And so damn aggravating.

      She sighed, giving voice to her discovery. “I don’t think I like being beholden to anyone.”

      “Nothing wrong in asking for help once in a while.”

      “There is if asking for help places you in someone’s debt.”

      There was a long stretch between lights. He took advantage of it by stepping on the gas, careful to remain on the alert for the occasional motorcycle cop. “That sounds as if you’ve had some not overly satisfactory relationships with people.”

      He was right. It did sound that way. Was this another piece of the puzzle that contained her identity? Venus tried vainly to fit it in somewhere. She struck out.

      “I don’t know,” she admitted. But even as she said the words, something nebulous slipped over her. It was elusive and refused to take on any definite form, but came with a feeling that there was some truth in what he said.

      He hadn’t expected her to suddenly exclaim, “Eureka!” and have her memory rush back. But he had no doubt that eventually, the woman would remember things. Just not yet.

      “Maybe you were just born skeptical,” he theorized.

      “Maybe,” she mumbled under her breath. She might not have been born that way, but she felt it now.

      Pacific Coast Highway and Newport Boulevard were fairly empty at this time of night. Trevor made the trip from Kate’s Kitchen to Blair Memorial in record time.

      Luck СКАЧАТЬ