“Good taste,” he said, then let it fall back into a soft puddle as he looked into Jane’s eyes. He tried to lend some lightness to his next words. “Well, for the record, I don’t believe for one moment that you’re some shoplifter making up a story to escape apprehension.”
Jane stared at him. Her wide mouth began to twitch, as if she was fighting a smile. “You still talk like a cop.”
Matt shrugged. Some of the tightness eased from his shoulders. “Force of habit. Besides, I’m still in law enforcement, sort of. I’m a private detective now.”
Jane lifted one brow. “Did you come here thinking I might need your services?”
There was no missing the almost desperate note in that low, throaty voice of Jane’s, a sexy quality that was the direct result of injuries sustained in a crime unsolved. Temporarily unsolved, Matt reminded himself. Now Jane Doe Num—Jane Ashbury—was no longer a half-forgotten part of his life. She was here, in front of him, a bit of unfinished business that had too long been pushed to the back of his mind by events that had turned his own life upside down.
His assessment of the crash made him doubt the theory that Jane had sent the car over the embankment herself, either accidentally or as a suicide attempt. When he and Manny were temporarily pulled off the case, they were certain that they’d eventually be able to prove that Jane’s “accident” had been a murder attempt.
Matt frowned. It was obvious that Wilcox had done nothing with the case the man had inherited. And maybe it was just as well. No one had ever been punished for Manny’s murder, or for the damage that had been done to Matt’s body and life. The idea of justice denied ate at him daily. Maybe he would feel better if he caught the person responsible for the attempt on Jane’s life and brought him, or her, to justice.
But first there was this matter of shoplifting to deal with.
“Well, to be honest,” Matt said, “I don’t consider this much of a case. I’d be very surprised if Mr. Jessup doesn’t return with an apology for having doubted you.”
Jane looked deeply skeptical, but before she could say anything, the door opened and the security guard entered the room. Wilcox followed him, but stopped just inside the door.
“Miss Ashbury,” Jessup said as he approached Jane. “I’m sorry for the…misunderstanding.”
Pure relief softened Jane’s features as she came around the desk and faced the security guard. “I’m free to go, then?”
The man nodded. Jane gave him a wide smile, then opened her arms and gave him a quick hug. When Jane stepped back, the guard blinked and straightened the cap that had been knocked askew by her enthusiasm.
Matt fought a smile. The Jane he remembered had seemed to be far younger than her estimated late-twenties to early thirties. The doctors explained this was because she had no memory of the personal experiences that forge maturity. However, the Jane he’d met upon entering this room had seemed wary and suspicious in a most adult way. He was glad to see that she’d managed to keep at least some of the childlike openness he’d found so refreshing.
“And thank you, Matt.”
Jane had turned toward him. Still smiling, she crossed the room and, before he could anticipate her intent, she went on tiptoe, threw her arms around his shoulders and drew him into a tight embrace.
Automatically Matt’s arms went around her slender body. In an instant he realized this wasn’t anything like the hugs he’d exchanged with Jane before, when she’d been as thin as an eleven-year-old girl. The woman he now held was still slender, but had developed gentle curves that seemed to melt into him, warming him, stirring him in ways he hadn’t allowed his body to experience in far too long. Without willing them to, his arms tightened around her.
For the second time that day, Jane felt the life she’d spent a year carefully building shift beneath her feet. As she found herself drawn into Matt’s embrace, a strange heat washed through her body, and although she had no memory of ever experiencing this particular sort of knee-weakening warmth, she knew what it was. It was the moment she’d read about in all those romance novels, when the woman’s body responds to a man’s. To the man. The one she is meant to be with, now and forever.
But real life, she heard a voice say, isn’t anything like a romance novel. The voice was Matt’s, she realized, echoing from a moment when he’d stood over her hospital bed. He’d tried to explain that there were better ways to fill the blanks in her knowledge than watching movies and television or reading fiction, then he’d handed her a book about the science of the brain and another on world history.
But today proved that he’d been wrong all those months ago. This was just like those novels—a moment of breathless expectation, of heart-pounding joy, of…of absolute idiocy.
A chill slithered through Jane. Kyle Rogers had elicited similar sensations. As she reminded herself of the painful lessons she’d learned in the past year about confusing love with physical attraction, she released her hold on Matt’s neck. As she stepped back, Matt’s arms released her slowly. She found herself standing a foot in front of him, staring mutely into those dark-lashed green eyes of his. Embarrassed heat flooded her cheeks, and she forced herself to speak.
“It was super of you to come down and help me out of this mess. I really appreciate it.” She paused. “I’m sure you have more important things to be doing. And Mr. Jessup here should no doubt be out looking for real shoplifters, so if he’ll return my purse to me, I believe it’s time I headed home.”
“Not so quick—”
Jane had almost forgotten Wilcox. She turned to him as he finished, “I think the three of us have a few things to discuss.”
Chapter Two
The security guard told Detective Wilcox to lock the door when they were finished speaking, then left the room. Neither Matt nor Wilcox had moved during all this. They stood on either side of the door, silently glaring at each other.
“You haven’t done a thing on Jane’s case, have you?” Matt asked the moment the door was shut.
“There hasn’t been a thing to do,” Wilcox replied. “I told her to call me if she remembered anything. Until today, I haven’t heard a word from her.”
The man turned to Jane. “You say you became confused downstairs because you suddenly recalled standing on a beach in the middle of May. Is that right?”
Jane nodded.
“Well, you could have been remembering a day from this past May, right?”
Jane was tempted to lie. It would make things far more simple. But the truth mattered more than convenience.
“No.”
Wilcox’s square features registered skepticism. “You sound rather certain of that.”
Jane shrugged. “I didn’t go to the beach this past May.”
“Okay. What, exactly, did you recall today, standing in front of the scarves?”
“Just what I told Mr. Jessup. I heard the Christmas music playing, and for one second, I could remember standing on the beach and thinking how warm it was for May. Then I became irritated that a store would play Christmas tunes so early.”
“Nothing more?”
Jane shook her head.
“Well, that’s not enough to relaunch any investigation.”
That was fine with Jane. She was releasing a slow breath of relief, when Matt spoke up.
“You have never believed that someone tried to murder her, have you. You still think she tried to kill herself.”
Wilcox met Matt’s