The Amnesiac Bride Read online

  That sounded romantic, she mused. Was he a romantic? He didn’t quite seem like one, although, she mocked herself, how would she know?

  “How long ago?”

  “This year.” He looked at her ring. “It was something of a whirlwind courtship.”

  “Then we liked each other right away?” She didn’t see how it could have been otherwise, at least as far as she was concerned. Zane exuded a tantalizing; almost dangerous sexuality that she knew she must have found instantly attractive. She did now. It seemed to cut through everything, like a dark marker underlining every word in a paragraph.

  They’d clashed immediately, Zane thought. It had been a duel for control right from the start. At times it still was. In a way, it was what made things exciting. But he wished he’d won the battle last night.

  Shooting through the light just before the amber color turned red, he nodded.

  “You might say there were instant fireworks.” At least that much was true.

  Whitney was unaware of nodding to herself. That sounded right. “I kind of had a feeling.”

  Zane raised a brow. “Why?”

  Whitney shifted beneath the restraining seat belt, her body all but twisted toward his. She had one foot tucked beneath her. A habit, Zane thought, her body obviously remembered even if she didn’t.

  “Because I feel it now,” she told him. She saw no reason not to be honest.

  “Really?” It was hard to keep the grin from surfacing, but he didn’t want her to think he was laughing at her. Was she ever going to hate him once she remembered everything! Still, he had to admit that it was tempting to let this line of conversation go on just a little bit longer.

  “And what is it exactly that you feel?” Zane tried his best to look as innocent as possible.

  She combed both hands through her hair and then let it fall. There was a restlessness in her. She could almost feel it growing. That, and a pull. A huge, powerful pull. Toward Zane.

  “I guess they’d call it chemistry.” She thought about it for a second. There was a freedom in knowing she was married. “I’m glad we’re married and there doesn’t have to be any game playing, because I find you awfully sexy.” He wasn’t saying anything. Was that typical? She laid her hand on his arm and he slanted a look at her before looking back at the road. Zanadu was just ahead. “Don’t you find me attractive?”

  Yeah, he did. Very. But he’d learn to live with it. It only clouded things. He didn’t turn to look at her. “That goes without saying.”

  He answered the way she would have imagined a man who had been married for a long time might. But they had just gotten married and she wanted more. She tried to make him understand.

  “Right now, nothing goes without saying.” Whitney paused, waiting. He didn’t seem to be very quick on the uptake. “Say it,” she whispered.

  Lies always came easily to him. That was a matter of necessity. It was the truth he had trouble with. “I find you attractive.”

  She sighed. He didn’t understand what she needed to hear. “Not that.”

  Her memory might be gone, but she certainly hadn’t forgotten how to be a pain in the butt. Zane curbed his impatience. At the same time, he realized that he was a great deal tenser than he was happy about, and it didn’t exactly have to do with what he was working on.

  “Then what?”

  “Say that you love me.” She knew that she was almost begging him to tell her, but right now that didn’t matter. Pride took second place to need. “I think I need to hear it.”

  She didn’t think, she knew. She needed to hear it, to believe it, because more than anything, she needed something to cling to, to work with. A foundation on which she could build. Knowing that he loved her would give her that beginning.

  He’d never said it to anyone—not those exact words, anyway. He’d implied it and let women draw their own conclusions, but the words themselves had never actually left his lips.

  He knew that if he would ever have said them, it would have been to her.

  Irritation joined hands with impatience. Some of it, he knew, was unreasonable. Zane rubbed his nape, feeling the itch beginning all over again. Glancing at her, he muttered, “I love you.”

  Disappointed, Whitney frowned. He’d said it with as much feeling as someone asking for an order of fries from a cardboard clown at a drive-through. “You don’t sound like you mean it.”

  “I mean it,” he ground out, then felt a shaft of guilt puncture him. She’d just gone through hell, was still going through it. The least he could do was make it a little easier on her. “I don’t cue very well, okay? A man picks his own time to say that he loves a woman—at least, I do. That doesn’t mean that the feelings aren’t there.”

  There, that should placate her. Then, because it was Whitney, because he really did care about her, Zane added, “I guess I’m just a little tense because I’m worried about you. I’ve never been faced with a situation I didn’t know how to handle before.”

  She could well believe that. He looked like a man accustomed to having things go his way, or making them go his way if necessary. As for saying “I love you,” she supposed that some men had trouble voicing their feelings, even to their wives.

  She flashed him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I guess I’m just being overly anxious right now.”

  “Small wonder.” He blew out a breath. All in all, she was handling this pretty well. “Hell, I don’t know how I would react to waking up and finding myself in some strange hotel room without the vaguest idea of who and where I was.”

  Except for the identity part, there had been a time or three when he had come to in unfamiliar surroundings. But he’d never been stripped of his chief asset—his mind. That would have been very, very difficult for him to come to terms with. That she hadn’t broken down just proved what he had already known—that Whitney was one hell of a strong lady.

  Zane reached over and covered her hand with his own. “We’ll get through this, Whitney. Just hang in there and trust me, no matter what.”

  What an odd thing to say, she thought. Why shouldn’t she trust him? Was there some kind of cryptic message in his words?

  Without warning, she suddenly had the eeriest feeling....

  But then, just as suddenly, it was gone again before she could grasp it. A wet tissue breaking up in the wind.

  Maybe later.

  Zane drove the rented car up to the front of the hotel. A tall, strapping valet dressed like a eunuch standing guard in a sultan’s harem strode over to them and opened the door for Whitney. It tickled her sense of the absurd.

  “Nice outfit,” she told the man.

  Brilliant white teeth flashed against a dark complexion. “Hey, it’s different.” The valet held his wide palm out, waiting for keys.

  Zane surrendered one of the two sets he always made a point to keep on him. It was one of his idiosyncrasies, but the extras were known to come in handy at times.

  Whitney stepped away from the curb and into Zane. As her body brushed against his, she could feel the electricity almost jumping between them. Their eyes met and held for a long moment.

  “I picked a hell of a time to lose my memory,” she murmured with regret. “On my honeymoon.” She raised her face to his. “But it doesn’t have to get in the way of things.”

  “No,” he agreed cautiously. What was she up to? “It doesn’t.”

  “We can still have a good time.”

  He had a feeling that right now their definition of a good time differed drastically. “Yes, I’m sure that we can.”

  It was almost one o’clock. He had arranged for them to meet with Quinton and his mistress at the groundlevel pool at one. They had to get going.

  But first, he wanted to take certain precautions. He didn’t want to risk things getting fouled up. He placed his hands on Whitney’s shoulders, commanding her complete attention.

  “Listen, Whit, we have to meet Quinton now. I think it might be for the best if you don’t make a big d
eal about your amnesia.”

  That was an odd way to put it. He made it sound as if her amnesia was an annoying little inconvenience, like a tiny blemish the night before a date. A minute ago, he’d sounded concerned; now he was trying to sweep it under the rug. Why the sudden change?

  “Big deal?” she echoed.

  He knew he’d phrased it wrong the minute it was out of his mouth, but he didn’t have time to smooth it over for her. Taking Whitney by the arm, Zane walked into the hotel’s casino.

  “Just don’t mention it to them, all right?”

  It wasn’t exactly something she’d intended to blurt out right after saying hello, but she didn’t understand why he wanted her not to say anything at all.

  “Why?”

  Because it might inadvertently ruin everything. He didn’t want either of them questioning her in an attempt to see what they could make her remember. She might remember the wrong thing and blurt it out. He knew he couldn’t say that to her without having to explain other things, as well;

  “It’ll probably make them feel uncomfortable.”

  She supposed that did make sense. Still...

  “Won’t they wonder if I don’t know the answer to things they might ask me?” There were all sorts of common, everyday things that she had no knowledge of. She looked at him in frustration. “I don’t know what my address is, or where I was born.” She tried not to let that get to her. “What if they ask me what I like to do in my spare time? What am I going to say? Nothing? They’ll think I’m an idiot.”

  They wove their way through the lobby, heading toward the rear door and the pool beyond. Zane fell back on the truth. “You were born in Washington. Tacoma.” And then he began to fabricate. “We live in L.A.” He gave her an address that would have checked out if necessary. Probably had been checked out already, he thought, if what he knew about Quinton was true. “And you like going to the movies. Everything but horror. You like comedies best, although you hate slapstick. And they won’t think you’re an idiot, although they sort of have the impression that you’re a little, well, scatterbrained.”

  He had a feeling that wasn’t going to go over well and he was right.

  Whitney abruptly stopped walking, nearly bumping into a waiter carrying a tray full of tall glasses that looked like a liquid rainbow.

  Scatterbrained? That really didn’t feel right. “Why would they think I was scatterbrained?”

  Because that was what he’d wanted them to think. It put Quinton off his guard a little. Quinton was accustomed to women being ornamental, remaining in the background and being easily diverted.

  Zane shrugged, making light of it. “You’re a blonde and you talk fast.”

  Well, she’d seen her reflection. The blonde part was accurate enough and she did speak quickly, but that was no reason to come to that conclusion.

  “But I’m not.”

  He didn’t want to be late. There was a great deal riding on this meeting and the additional groundwork it would lay. He gently ushered her in the right direction. Quinton was visible from here. “Not what?”

  He was hurrying. She had to walk quickly to keep up. “Scatterbrained. Ditzy.” Maybe he thought she was. “Am I?”

  There were times when she could think rings around him. And other times when he could have sworn she had the mind of a child. But even at her most infuriating, he would never have said that she was dumb.

  Zane shook his head. “No, you’re not.”

  It was a relief to know he didn’t think so. “Then why would they think...?”

  “People tend to stereotype.” He shrugged the matter off. “Look, there they are now.”

  There were a lot of people in the pool and even more around the perimeter, both in lounging chairs and at the canopied tables that were strategically placed not to interfere with foot traffic. The odds of picking out the right couple were completely against her, especially since she didn’t know who she was looking for.

  Still, reflexes had her looking around. “Where?”

  Zane pointed to the left. “There. The waiter just walked by them.

  “Quinton looks a little like the guy who played James Bond. The first one.” Zane stopped. “Do you know...?”

  She knew what he was going to ask. “Yes, oddly enough, I do know who you’re talking about.” Even if she was still a mystery to herself.

  Whitney looked in the general direction where he was pointing and picked out the waiter, then looked just behind him. There was an older man sitting at one of the larger tables beside a stunning brunette who appeared to be filling out the scarlet sundress she was wearing quite well.

  Zane was right—Quinton did look like Sean Connery. Very suave and sophisticated. He was wearing immaculate white slacks and a navy pullover, open at the throat. What looked like a designer insignia was discreetly resting over the single pocket.

  As they drew closer to the pair, the scent of a pricey cologne mingled with a whiff of heady perfume and the smell of suntan lotion.

  No, a sunblock, Whitney amended. The brunette was fair enough to have passed for Snow White. An X-rated Snow White. The hem of her dress was carelessly gathered around to her thighs. It was an artfully arranged carelessness, Whitney realized, judging by the knowing look on the woman’s face.

  Whitney shifted her eyes to look at Zane. Was he aroused by women who were well endowed enough for two? In comparison, Whitney felt that she looked like a boy. Her build leaned toward athletic.

  Inclining his head, Zane whispered last-minute information into Whitney’s ear. “Their names are Richard and Sally.”

  Sally. The name was far too average to suit the woman. “What is she to him?”

  “Ecstasy, probably.” Quinton liked his women willing and hot. Sally looked as if she was both. The tennis necklace at her throat, with stones that looked like small robin’s eggs, were a testimonial to the fact that she did her job well.

  Whitney sniffed. “If you like that sort of thing,” she commented, her lips barely moving.

  The unabashed display of jealousy tickled him. It wasn’t something he would have expected from Whitney. But then, this wasn’t really Whitney.

  “I’m sure he does.”

  She had to ask. “Do you?”

  Well, she was certainly direct. He’d almost replied that he wouldn’t have kicked Sally out of bed but managed to catch himself just in time. Under the circumstances, it wouldn’t have been a prudent thing to say.

  “I’ve got you.” Zane pressed a kiss to her temple. “Why would I notice anyone else?”

  She doubted if any man wouldn’t have noticed Sally, but it was a nice thing to hear. Grateful for the lie, pleased that he’d offered it to her, Whitney stopped just short of Quinton’s table. Impulsively, she rose on her toes, framed Zane’s face with her hands and kissed him. His surprised expression just before their lips met amused her.

  A moment later, Zane knew just what Whitney had to be going through right now. Within seconds of contact, Zane discovered that his head was completely depleted of all thoughts, all memory, everything.

  Everything but the cataclysmic effect that her mouth had on his. He could feel his blood heating even as wonder bloomed within his breast. Aroused, curious, he drew her into his arms and let the kiss deepen even further.

  Whitney? Was this Whitney? Just what had that bump on her head done to her?

  And what was she doing to him?

  The chasm below opened wider, letting him complete his free-fall through space and time.

  Wow.

  The single word said nothing. And everything.

  Her body was practically singing as she molded it to his. As her warmth mingled with his. If she’d had any doubts that they were meant to be one, there were none left now.

  Biting back a moan, she twined her arms around his neck. This felt wonderful. She felt as if she’d found a piece of herself here, in his arms, in his kiss. The rest of her had to be there somewhere.

  She wanted to go up to
their suite with him and find it.

  Quinton’s deep chuckle abruptly returned Whitney to stark reality.

  Whitney drew her mouth away from Zane’s with a reluctant sigh. But it took a moment before the throbbing subsided.

  The expression on Quinton’s lips was more of an appreciative leer than a smile.

  “Well, I was just about to give up on you two. Now I see what the delay was.” Quinton laughed heartily at his own observation. His smile widened. Despite its breadth, there was something chilly about it, Whitney thought. “I was beginning to think that I’d have to dump the champagne bucket on you two to put out the fire.”

  Zane stepped away from Whitney, though he kept a proprietary arm around her waist. He shouldn’t have let that happen. Pretending to behave like a newlywed was one thing, but he wasn’t supposed to get carried away in the part. Reacting to Whitney had been a totally unprofessional lapse on his part. He’d never allowed feelings to interfere with a job before. He was going to have to be careful.

  Clearing his head, Zane pulled out a chair for Whitney.

  “Sorry, I guess I got a little carried away.” That much was true. But it shouldn’t have been.

  Small, deep-set eyes moved along Whitney’s body as Quinton clearly imagined himself in Zane’s place. “Can’t say I blame you. If I’d just gotten married to her, I wouldn’t allow her leave the suite for at least a week.” When they narrowed, his gray eyes grew flinty. “The only thing that would interest me would be keeping her naked and happy for as long as possible.”

  Though the words were meant to be flattering, the breakfast Whitney had consumed threatened to come up. Reluctantly, she took the seat Zane held out for her. She would rather have sat between the woman and Zane instead of beside Quinton, but there was no way to do that without calling attention to it.

  “Zane’s managing very well.” Whitney felt compelled to come to his defense. Or was that her own she was seeing to? She had a feeling that despite the fact that Sally looked like more woman than Quinton could handle, Quinton wasn’t the type to be satisfied with a monogamous relationship.