Diagnosis: Attraction. Rebecca York

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      Chapter Two

      Matt turned to see that Polly Kramer, one of the nurses, had come into the room behind him.

      “Dr. Delano.”

      “Yes,” he answered, relieved that someone else had intervened to break up the intensity of the encounter between him and Elizabeth but also wondering how much of the conversation the nurse had heard.

      She must have picked up on something, perhaps the tone of their voices, because she asked, “Is there some problem?”

      He was wondering what to say when Elizabeth answered from the bed. “Basically, still my memory.” She cleared her throat. “But while Dr. Delano was examining me, a name popped into my head. I think it’s my real name.”

      The woman’s face lit up. “Why, that’s marvelous. What is it?”

      “Elizabeth.” She waited a beat. “I only got the first name.”

      “But that’s a start.”

      “I was hoping that Dr. Delano could help me dredge up some other facts about myself.”

      Kramer looked at him. “Can you help her?”

      “I’m afraid not. The name came to her. It wasn’t anything I did,” he protested, not sure that he was actually telling the truth but totally unwilling to explain. He’d done something, but he’d only touched her, and he wasn’t going to do it again.

      The nurse nodded, then changed the subject. “Is Elizabeth ready to be discharged?”

      “If I knew where to send her,” Matt muttered. “Nobody’s come forward looking for her?”

      “I’m afraid not.”

      His gaze flicked to the woman on the bed, and they were probably both thinking, given her memory of the aftermath of the crash, that might be an advantage.

      “Do you have any suggestions?” Elizabeth asked.

      “I might,” Nurse Kramer murmured, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

      Matthew waited for her to say what was on her mind.

      After a long pause, the nurse said, “I have a spare room that I haven’t used since my daughter got married and moved away. I was thinking that...Elizabeth might want to stay with me until she remembers who she is.”

      * * *

      IN HIS DULANEY VALLEY mansion, Derek Lang leaned back in the comfortable leather chair behind his desk. He was a tall man, and the expensive chair was specially designed with a comfortable headrest. His dark hair was tamed by a four-hundred-dollar haircut. His well-muscled frame was clothed in a thousand-dollar suit. And he was currently having a facial massage administered by Susanna, one of the gorgeous young women he kept around the house. He liked them to have useful skills, in addition to being good in bed. And Susanna was a perfect example.

      When she finished and stepped away, he picked up a hand mirror and inspected his face. At forty-five he still looked fit—because he took good care of himself with daily sessions in the gym on the weight machines and ellipticals. And he’d also had some nips and tucks by one of the most expensive plastic surgeons in the city.

      “Thank you, honey,” he murmured.

      “You’re welcome, Mr. Lang.”

      He gave her a long look as he thought about asking her to take off her halter top and miniskirt. Per his instructions, she wouldn’t be wearing anything under either one, and she could stand in front of him while he ran his hands over her. Then he could pursue a couple of interesting alternatives. Like having her kneel in front of him. Or having her sit with her legs open at the edge of the desk.

      Enjoying her services was a tempting prospect, but he had some urgent business to take care of. He flicked his eyes to her face, knowing she was following his thoughts and waiting for him to make a decision. He liked the power he had over her and everyone else who worked for him—either voluntarily or involuntarily. Susanna was one of the latter, of course.

      He repressed a sigh. Business before pleasure. “Tell Southwell to come in.”

      “Yes, sir.”

      As she turned away, he patted her butt, then pulled his chair up to the desk. Moments later one of his best men entered and stood respectfully in front of the desk.

      Gary Southwell had been a high-school football star, and Derek had recruited Gary at the end of his senior year because of his bulk and menacing appearance. Since appearance wasn’t enough, Derek had Gary specially trained both in martial arts and on the firing range.

      The man was adept at hand-to-hand combat and was an excellent shot. And he was grateful for the good salary he earned, the comfortable accommodations and the women he could shag anytime he wanted. All of that made him loyal to a fault. And anxious to please.

      “Do we have a report on the Elizabeth Forester situation? Is she still in the hospital?” Derek asked. His men had been keeping tabs on her for weeks and closing in for the kill when she had wrecked her car, drawing too much attention from witnesses. Derek didn’t like it when his plans went sour.

      “She’s still in the hospital,” Southwell answered. “Her physical condition is okay, but they’re keeping her because she’s lost her memory.”

      “You think that’s true?”

      Southwell shrugged.

      “If it is, I wonder if it’s because she’d rather not remember,” Derek mused.

      “That could be part of it,” Southwell agreed. “And it’s good for us, isn’t it?”

      “At the moment, but how long is that going to last?” Derek Lang asked.

      “No way of knowing.”

      “If the memory loss were permanent, that would solve our problem. But I don’t want her suddenly remembering why she’s been so busy over the past few weeks and then calling in the cops.”

      “She didn’t do it before.”

      “Because she knew that was dangerous, but getting hit on the head could have affected her judgment which could make her reckless now.”

      Southwell nodded.

      “You went to her house after the accident,” Derek said. “Anything I should know about?”

      “We tore the place apart and didn’t find anything on paper, but there were computer files with information you wouldn’t want anyone to СКАЧАТЬ