It was more than she’d hoped for. “Deal. I’ll figure out something on the ID if it comes up.”
“Don’t forget the ring.”
“Oh, yeah. Thanks.” Katie reached into her purse, took out the imitation—gold wedding band and slipped it onto her finger.
John shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m helping you.”
“I’ll do the same for you.”
“I know. You’ve always been there when I needed you. I just hope you never have occasion to repay this kind of a favor!”
“Relax. Everything’s going to be fine. You go on out the back door and take care of things, and I’ll get this cad a glass of water and two aspirin. And if he’s remembered who he is, I’ll pour the water over his head. With plenty of ice. It can’t hurt matters at this point.”
John. Somehow the name didn’t seem to fit, but that was what the woman—his wife—had called him. He settled on the sofa, leaning back to ease the throbbing in his head.
Why the hell couldn’t he remember who he was? The sensation of being lost in his own body was strange and awful. He couldn’t remember who he was, couldn’t remember his wife, couldn’t remember his home…and he didn’t particularly like his home now that he looked around.
The house itself was small and old while the furni ture, pictures and area rugs appeared new though inexpensive. He must not make very much money as a…well, as whatever he did. And his wife wasn’t much of a housekeeper. The place definitely had a lived—in look with its books, magazines, a pair of running shoes, a suitcase and garment bag—were they taking a trip?—a pencil and notepad…
“Here, John. Aspirin.” His wife approached, tentatively holding a glass of ice water in one hand and two white pills in the other, both at arm’s length.
Maybe she wasn’t such a good housekeeper, but he could certainly see why he’d married her. She was a looker. Short, honey—colored hair, big eyes the shade of bluebonnets, full pink lips, fair skin with a golden glow as if she spent a lot of time in the sun, thin cotton shirt outlining round breasts that would just fit in a man’s hand, and faded blue jeans wrapped snugly around a rear to match those breasts. Damn! How could a man forget a woman like that?
He couldn’t keep the smile from his lips as he accepted the water and the pills. “Thanks, uh, honey.” Her enormous eyes got even bigger. Had he said something wrong? Maybe he didn’t normally call her honey. But he didn’t know her name.
He tossed the aspirins into his mouth, washing them down with the cold water. The sensation of a cool liquid trickling down his throat was real and tangible and familiar in this strange, unreal, out-of-focus world.
She sat beside him. “How do you feel?”
“Weird,” he said. “But much better with you here.” He did sense some sort of connection between the two of them, but it was only a feeling. He couldn’t pull the facts out of the mist of his memory. He moved closer, wanting to strengthen that connection. “You smell good. Kind of like…uh…”
“Honeysuckle,” she supplied, inching away from him as if frightened. “You still don’t know who you are, do you?”
“No, I’m sorry.” He couldn’t blame her for being a little freaked out with the whole thing; he certainly was. “I know there’s something between us, but I still don’t remember you. I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Katie Logan. Katie Logan Dunn. That’s your name. Dunn. John Dunn. We’re married. Two days ago.” She held out her left hand to show him the plain gold band. A pretty cheap—looking gold band. Was that the best he could afford?
“Katie.” He tried the name, rolling it off his tongue. “John Dunn. Katie Dunn.” Neither name rang any bells. In fact, they both sounded kind of flat to his ears. Oh, well. Most people disliked their names.
He brightened at that thought. At least he remembered generalizations. Things could be worse.
He smiled, his gaze sweeping from her shiny blond hair down the length of her slim body. “I certainly do have good taste, wife.”
She fidgeted nervously for a moment, staring at her hands in her lap, then took a deep breath. “Look, maybe we better take you to emergency and get an X ray or brain scan or something.”
“For a little bump on the head like this? No way.” He couldn’t remember any details, but he sensed that his experiences with hospitals hadn’t been pleasant. He definitely had no desire to go to one for something as minor as this injury. “Don’t worry. Like that other guy said, I’m just a little confused after the accident. I’ll be all right in a few minutes.”
He reached to take her slim hand in his. Her fingers were as icy as the water he’d just drunk. Could be from carrying the glass. Or could be from concern about him. He kind of liked that.
The screen door opened. Katie jerked her hand away as the other guy—Fred, she’d called him—charged in, his face flushed. “Okay, Katie, you’re all set.”
John frowned. Was his injured mind playing more tricks? “Didn’t you go through there a few minutes ago?” He jerked his thumb toward the rear of the house.
“Back door,” Katie supplied. “He went out the back door and came in the front.”
“Why?”
“He was…putting up the ladder. The one you fell off of.”
“I fell off a ladder? At night? What was I doing on a ladder in the dark?”
“You were…” She hesitated, giving Fred a desperate look. What the hell could he have been doing on a ladder that she didn’t want to tell him about? “Rescuing the cat,” she finished. “He got stuck on the roof.”
“We have a cat?” The very thought made him want to sneeze.
“I have a cat. I had it before we got married.”
“So where is he now?”
“He ran off when you fell. But he’ll be back. You know what they say about the cat always coming back.”
He lifted a hand to the lump that was forming on his head and frowned. She sounded a little off, her words too bright, out of sync…he wasn’t sure. Something was wrong, though he couldn’t say exactly what.
Well, hell, losing his memory was wrong. What more did he want? Katie was doing the best she could. He had no reason to be suspicious of her.
Katie cast Fred a worried look. “Maybe we ought to get him to a doctor after all.”
“I may not remember my name right now, but I’m pretty sure I’m an adult male of legal age and capable of making my own decisions, and I said I don’t need to go to a doctor.” The very idea set his teeth on edge. “I’ll let you know if I change my mind. And don’t talk about me as if I weren’t here.”
Fred shrugged. “There’s not much they could do anyway. If the pain gets worse, you probably ought to see a doctor, but you seem to be doing okay.”
“Fred’s a doctor,” Katie explained. “So are you. You and Fred work together. You’re residents at Springcreek General Hospital.”
“I’m a doctor?” That surprised him. More strongly than ever, he felt an instinctive aversion to hospitals. But maybe that was why—working with sick people all the time. “Do I like being a doctor?”
“You love it,” Katie declared. “Except the long hours you put in as a resident.”
He supposed that would explain the aversion. Still…
Fred