“I’m sorry, I don’t remember. But the doctor says it’s only temporary.” He held out his hand. “Come and give me a kiss. It’ll probably come right back.”
Emily jumped visibly. “Uh…Nick, are you sure you’ not…well…just kidding around?”
He froze. “What?”
“Well, you do like a good joke.”
For an instant he felt a flash of dislike for his former self. If his wife thought he’d play a practical joke at such a crucial time for her, then he must have been a jerk. “I’m not kidding,” he said quietly. “I can’t imagine doing anything so horrible when you’ pregnant.”
Emily hesitated, stroking her palm over her stomach in a restless gesture that spoke volumes. She probably did that a lot when she was anxious or unhappy, trying to reassure herself that the baby was all right. A soft warmth invaded his heart.
“I mean it. Please kiss me,” he whispered.
She edged toward him, obviously nervous. “Nick, you aren’t yourself. We should wait till you feel better.”
At the moment he felt fine. In fact, he felt like beating on his chest and yelling like Tarzan. Whatever faults his unremembered self suffered from, poor taste in women wasn’t one of them. “I just want a kiss,” he chided gently. “I didn’t ask you to make love to me.”
The pink in her cheeks deepened. “I know, I just thought…” She shrugged diffidently.
A stab of frustration turned the corner of his mouth down. He needed Emily to be herself, not so quiet and uneasy. Or was it him? Was he a good husband, or was he terrible? Looking at her, he could well imagine they spent plenty of time in bed, but after that there was a lot of open territory.
Jeez.
He stirred restlessly, kicking at the blanket over his legs, then changed his mind; he didn’t have to advertise his physical response to Emily, even if she was his wife. And she’d certainly notice…hospital garments didn’t offer much camouflage. He’d have to get something else to wear if he hoped to have some privacy.
“Come here, Angel,” he murmured.
Emily stepped to the edge of the bed. Close up she looked even better than across the room. Naturally dark lashes fringed her clear blue eyes, and her skin was smooth and only lightly touched by the sun. The hair he’d thought was gold was more than that—a shimmering array of darks and lights; gold and fiery glints of chestnut. He could already imagine how it would feel, fragrant and cool, sliding against them…between them.
It was rather exciting, the thought of rediscovering lost sensations. Of rediscovering his life. If he didn’t remember, it wouldn’t be so bad. Everything would be new. Different.
No.
Alarm jolted through him, even worse than when he’d first realized he didn’t remember his own name. He was rationalizing, trying to find a good reason not to panic at the thought of never regaining his memory.
Nick.
My name is Nick, he mouthed silently. And this was his wife, Emily. He had a home and family. A baby was on the way. In an hour…or maybe a few days, he’d get things straight in his head and then everything would be fine. It had to be.
“Are you all right?” he asked. The expression in her big, worried eyes troubled him. “Everything’s okay with the baby, isn’t it? I know this has been a shock.”
“Don’t worry,” she assured him quickly. “My obstetrician is out of town, but Paige…Dr. Wescott gave me a complete examination. I may be little, but I’m tough.”
Tough? He fought a ridiculous impulse to smile. “Angel, you look about as tough as a rose petal.”
The tip of her tongue flicked over her lips. “Er…you always call me Emily. I don’t have any nicknames.”
“I like ‘Angel,’ don’t you? It fits. You look like an angel, all pink and gold. You’ so beautiful.”
“Oh.” A look of surprised pleasure erased the worry in her face, yet it increased his own uneasiness. Emily didn’t seem accustomed to receiving compliments from him, which meant he must have been blind or insensitive—or both—before the accident. “That’s nice…I mean, thank you,” she said softly.
He caught her wrist and threaded their fingers together. For the first time he realized there were hard calluses on his hands, which contrasted with the softness of her skin. The small discovery pleased him for some reason.
“What do I do?” he asked. “For a living?”
“You’ a civil engineer.”
Hmm. It sounded interesting. “Roads, bridges, dams? That kind of thing?”
“Yes. You’ out of town a lot, but you’ on vacation right now,” she explained.
That was a relief. At least he wouldn’t have to start evaluating stress tests or any other formula in the im” mediate future. Stress tests? He thought for a moment and realized there was a lot of highly technical knowledge jumbled in his head. But why was his personal life eluding him?
He pulled on Emily’s hand, drawing his reluctant wife closer. He had to get his memory back, and if kissing this luscious bundle of femininity would help…Well, it was all for the cause.
Emily looked at Nick, and her toes curled. She’d never seen that particular expression on his face before… a kind of sensual appraisal. For her. Awareness flooded her body with startling speed.
Nick thought they were married. Really married—not the convenient sort of marriage it actually was. And the doctor said she couldn’t tell him, not when the truth was so complicated. It would be too traumatic, especially since he’d heard the medics from the ambulance talking about his wife. For the time being she’d have to pretend they were the perfect, loving couple.
“Come here, Angel,” he murmured again, smiling wickedly.
Emily resisted for just a moment. A part of her still believed Nick was playing some sort of elaborate joke and he’d start laughing the minute she came close to kissing him. Marriage or not, they were buddies, not lovers. All her life he’d been like another brother, teasing her in one breath, then tackling the neighborhood bully for calling her a bad name in the next.
Friends.
But there was nothing friendly in the sexy way he kept looking at her…like an ice cream treat on a hot day. With her free hand Emily tugged surreptitiously at her T-shirt, suddenly wishing it was bigger, or that she was wearing some safe, roomy maternity blouse. What was wrong with her? Nick had seen her in a lot less over the years. He’d even seen her in the raw when she was ten— the result of a prank by her obnoxious practical-joke-playing eldest brother.
“Nick,” she protested as he drew her down on the hospital bed. “I really don’t think this is the… ah…place.”
Nick. It sounded a little better now, he decided. He could get used to being called Nick, especially with that breathless way she had of talking. Lifting his arm, he traced the delicate lines of her face, trying to absorb everything as rapidly as possible. Tactile sensations. Physical response. Anything to get his memory back.
Emily’s skin was soft…he knew that. Like the finest silk. And her lips were moist and velvety. He’d bet they tasted every bit as good as they looked. She had a faintly stubborn line to her jaw, which contrasted adorably with her angelic sweetness.
This was awful.
He couldn’t remember being in love with his wife, but he’d immediately fallen into lust. His finger trailed down her throat to the