He only wished he could remember more.
Rachel took Tamela by the hand, leading the girl to Matthew. “This is your daughter,” she said, a catch in her voice.
At least he could hold on to the few images that had entered his mind. He dropped to the stone floor on one knee, bringing himself eye-to-eye with Tamela. He stuck out a hand for a shake. “How’s my girl?”
Rachel shot a cold glance at him, maybe warning him that he’d already gotten too familiar. Well, this was his daughter, for Pete’s sake. Again, he got the feeling that Rachel wasn’t all that comfortable with his return.
Why?
Tamela stepped toward him, ignoring his outstretched hand, widening her eyes. Matt felt like a snake behind the glass of a zoo exhibit. “Why did you leave, Daddy?”
Oh, damn. Matt didn’t know how to explain this. He drew back from her.
Luckily Rachel stepped in, leaning her knee on the floor, right along with Matt. “Daddy’s got a story to tell us, honey. Just keep in mind that we’ve still got a lot to talk about. Okay?”
Matt’s body reacted to Rachel’s perfume—a night-blooming jasmine bouquet. The scent was elusive, mysterious, yet somehow comforting. The wildness of it took him back to a dark place. A warm place.
Tamela interrupted his thoughts. “The other day Mommy told Mrs. Cassidy that you’re a no-good scoundrel.”
Rachel cleared her throat. “That was during your quiet time, Tam. Mommy was joking with Mrs. Cassidy. Adults do that sometimes.”
Yeah, Matt was absolutely wheezing with laughter inside. “I’ll be honest with you, pumpkin.”
At this, Tamela smiled, her brown eyes shining. Matt wondered if he’d always called her by that pet name.
He continued. “I don’t remember much about the past two years. But I’m trying to do the right thing, coming back home. I’ve lost most of my memory.”
“Like you lose a shoe? I did that in school last week. Mommy didn’t even get mad at me.”
Matt wished Mommy wasn’t so mad at him for losing something, either. “I guess it’s a little like that. And sometimes that shoe will turn up in the strangest places, when you least expect it. Or sometimes you’ll find clues as to where that shoe is. Just like my memory.”
“So we can help you find clues?” asked Tamela. She scooted closer to Matt, placing a pudgy hand on his shoulder with all the openness of a child.
Matt’s heart choked. He couldn’t help the swell of emotion clogging his speech. He wanted to scoop her into his arms, hug her with all the love she’d been missing from him these past two years. Buying time to recover, he glanced at Rachel, whose brows were knitted. Her eyes resembled a mist-covered lake, unmapable.
“Tam,” she said, her voice creaky enough to make Matt think she’d been affected, “sometimes memories never come back, and we have to be prepared for that.”
Matt wondered if she’d prefer to keep Matthew Shane on the “Missing” side of a milk carton. What would they do if he never remembered his life? Did he have the right to be here, expecting to reclaim his horse farm, his lifestyle?
The little girl nodded stoically, like a minireporter gathering information for The Toadstool Times. “Why are you dressed like a country singer?”
Rachel hid a sudden laugh behind her hand, turning away from him. When she recovered, their gazes caught, and he felt fire in his belly—fast-moving and furious. He could almost feel her hair silking down his skin, her breasts sliding over his chest.
Damn, his libido was moving way too quickly. He wasn’t even sure he liked Rachel, but something deep inside told him it didn’t matter. He felt chemistry between them—a brew that could allow them to make love like strangers, making the tangled sheets hot and sweaty, making the morning-after parting of ways a simple act.
The thought was all too easy, causing Matt to wonder if Matthew Shane had spent much time in roadside bars, roadside motels.
He cleared his throat and answered Tamela’s blunt question. “A country singer, huh? Well, I lived in Texas for a while. It’s comfortable to wear jeans and a hat when you work on a ranch with horses.”
“Like our horses?” she asked, a single dimple lighting one side of her mouth.
“Not really. Down there we have quarter horses, and we use Western saddles, just for a start.”
Tamela nodded as if she knew exactly what he was talking about. Matt realized that she’d been raised on this farm, learned to ride with English saddles, on thoroughbreds and saddlebreds.
The whole scene was a lifetime away from Texas flatlands and dust, bluebonnets and horizon-filled sunsets.
The phone rang, and Rachel stood. “Excuse me.”
As she walked away, she tossed a glance over her shoulder, seemingly worried that he’d revert back to the old Matthew at any moment.
But would that be such a bad thing?
He and Tamela turned to each other, questions drawing them together like time-sharpened hooks.
Rachel walked into the adjoining kitchen, dodging the island cutting block with its hanging cast-iron pots and pans in order to get to the phone. Her heart was still pounding from the sight of Tamela and Matthew, huddled together in the family room. She didn’t know why she felt so threatened.
Heck, yes she did. She was afraid the old Matthew had come back to her, bad habits and all. She didn’t want to say it was a relief that this new man—this stranger—didn’t remember everything Matthew had done to let her and Tamela down, but… Okay, maybe it was a relief.
“Hello?” she asked, after getting the phone.
“Ms. Shane?” drawled a crisp, to-the-point voice.
“Chloe Lister?” Thank goodness. Talk about saved by the bell, or the ringer or…whatever. “There’s no one else in this world I’d rather be talking to right now.”
A deep sigh from the other end of the line. “Don’t tell me. Matthew got there before I could. Dammit, I knew I’d blown it.”
“Listen, Chloe, don’t be so hard on yourself. I hired you to find my husband, and obviously you flushed him out. He walked right up to me today while I was working on the farm, just as calm as you please. Like he’d been away on an extended business trip.”
“I understand, Ms. Shane.”
Rachel could imagine Chloe, dressed in a crisp business pants suit with her straight hair cut in a sharp line to the jaw. Vigilant and purposeful, that’s why Sam Reno, the county sheriff and a good friend, had recommended Chloe’s investigative services.
The woman said, “I should’ve known that Texas foreman was lying through his teeth to me. He kept looking at the door, as if expecting the truth to walk in at any time. The man must’ve gone to Matthew right after I left.”
“You did well, Chloe,” Rachel said, wandering to the kitchen entrance to spy on Matthew and Tamela. The pair was seated on the couch, laughing together about something or another. A bolt of…what was it—jealousy?…coursed through Rachel at the sight.
Tamela would’ve been too young to remember Matthew’s frequent business trips and the countless parties he’d attended with the thoroughbred set, parties he’d enjoyed without Rachel. She’d opted to stay home with her daughter.
Not that Matthew had been a bad father. He’d showered Tamela with affection, making the child glow whenever he walked into the room. Rachel had to admit that she felt a prod of envy, thinking about how his effortless love won over their daughter every time, while she’d