“You need to understand something, Doctor.”
General Flynn settled into the chair directly across from Ryan, his voice pleasant. Reasonable. “I’m not what you’d call a very nice person. Especially when I’m impatient. And at the moment, I’m feeling impatient.”
“Perhaps you should consider taking a seminar on anger management, General,” Ryan said, allowing his own tone to match Flynn’s. But even as he spoke, his mind raced. Somehow he needed to stall them, keep them occupied until Tess got far enough away.
“How’d you find us?”
“I have one of the best trackers in the business working for me. You’ll meet him soon enough.” Flynn nodded to the two hired thugs, and Ryan found his arms yanked behind his back. Pain radiated up the length of his arms into his shoulders.
Flynn smiled. “Now that I have your attention, I need to know where Tess is headed and how much of the project the two of you were able to piece together.”
Ryan kept his facial expression blank. No way would he give the man the satisfaction of seeing anything he was feeling. “Tess left. That’s all I know.”
“We don’t have time for this.” Flynn nodded to the man at the door. “Get McCaffrey in here.”
The door swung open, and a tall and powerfully built man sauntered in. Ryan figured Flynn’s enforcer had arrived.
The man’s hair, the color of January ice, had an almost bluish undersheen to it, and the strands, close cropped and bristly, crowned his perfectly shaped head with military precision.
But it was the man’s eyes that were the most disturbing. He leaned against the doorframe and studied Ryan with oddly empty eyes, the color of washed-out denim. Ryan’s internal radar went off with a deafening roar. This was someone dangerous. The kind of person Ryan had met on more than one occasion when doing court-ordered forensic evaluations.
If this was the person Flynn was using to track Tess down, Ryan knew he’d have to buy her more than a few minutes head start. This man had the look of the streamlined bloodhound, a true killer.
“Have we met?” Ryan asked.
The hired tracker lifted himself off the doorframe and stepped into the room. His gait was loose and rolling.
“Actually, Doctor, we’ve never met. But like you, I’m a great admirer of Tess.” He smiled, a smooth stretch of lips that gilded over shark-white teeth. “Tess and I are soul mates of a sort. Two parts of a whole.” He held out a hand. “The name’s McCaffrey. Ian McCaffrey.”
Ryan simply stared at McCaffrey’s hand. “Sorry, I seem to be indisposed at the moment.”
McCaffrey’s smile widened and his cold eyes flicked up toward the two thugs holding Ryan. “Ease up, gentlemen. Dr. Donovan is our guest.”
The two guards laughed but their holds didn’t loosen.
“And how is the lovely and talented Tess?” McCaffrey asked.
“She’s just fine.” Ryan decided to push the man’s buttons a little. “It’s strange though. She’s never mentioned you, McCaffrey. I’m guessing the two of you aren’t as close as you thought, huh?”
Something dark and ugly flashed across the surface of McCaffrey’s eyes. One minute it was there and the next it vanished. But it told Ryan something important. McCaffrey felt something for Tess, and he didn’t like the idea that his feelings might not be reciprocated.
“The general asked you very politely where Tess was headed. Now I’m asking and I’m not asking in such a nice and polite way.”
Ryan shrugged, and it was then that McCaffrey lifted his right knee. He moved so fast that Ryan only saw an explosion of white. It wasn’t until the pain ripped through his gut that he realized McCaffrey had kicked him.
His head dropped onto his chest and a trickle of sweat slid down the center of his back. He sucked hot air, waiting for the pain to subside.
“I have it on good authority that you’re an intelligent man,” McCaffrey said. “Don’t force me to break you down.”
“Do what you need to do,” Ryan said, lifting his head, his gaze defiant. “But I have nothing to tell you.”
Ryan braced himself and McCaffrey nodded a command. One of the thugs hit Ryan behind his left ear. He grunted and hot shards of pain shot up the back of his head.
McCaffrey leaned in and spoke softly in his ear. “Don’t play hero with me, Doctor. We both know you don’t have what it takes. You can’t hope to withstand the punishment I’ve been trained to inflict.”
“Then I guess we’re in for a long evening, because I have no intention of telling you anything.”
The words were no sooner out of his mouth than McCaffrey’s knee came up again and hit Ryan under the chin. His head snapped back and lights danced in front of his eyes. One of the men behind him double-punched his left kidney and the word pain took on a whole new meaning.
Ryan grunted and coughed. A string of blood and saliva slipped from between his lips and spilled onto the carpet, staining it a dark crimson. “Go to hell, you bastard,” he managed from between swollen lips.
From what seemed like a great distance away, Ryan heard Flynn’s voice. “All right, that’s enough. He isn’t going to tell us anything, and I don’t want him bruised up.”
Panting, Ryan rested his chin on his chest. He needed to stay conscious. He needed to stall them. The longer they were with him, the less chance there was that they’d find Tess.
“Get him in the chair,” Flynn ordered.
They dragged him over and dropped him into the chair. When he tried to get up, two of the men slammed him back down.
Flynn crouched down to eye level. “Listen to me, Doctor. Tell me now what I want to know and you can go home.”
“Go to hell.”
Flynn stood up. “This is a waste of my time. Tess will follow her programming. McCaffrey and I will go on ahead. You two get these down him.” He slammed two bottles of pills on the table beside Ryan. “But do it slowly. I don’t want him puking them back up.”
He checked the label on the bottles. Valium and phenobarbital. Damn. Enough in both bottles to kill three of him.
“Once the pills are in, get him on the bed. I want him found with a suicide note.” Flynn pulled a note out of his pocket and set it on the stand. He glanced at Ryan. “I added a section regarding the woman in Boston. It’s a rather nice touch, I thought.” He chuckled and patted Ryan’s cheek. “Everyone will think you found it impossible to live with your guilt.”
He turned back to the two men. “Make sure you go through the entire room and wipe it down for prints.”
“How are we gonna get him to swallow them?”
“Be creative. Just don’t bruise him up any more than he already is. Get the whiskey out of the car. Use that to wash the pills down,” Flynn said.
“I’m not swallowing anything,” Ryan mumbled.
Flynn reached out and patted his cheek. “Of course you will, son.”
Ryan heard the door slam as the two left. He clamped his mouth shut as one of the thugs yanked his head back and tried to stuff a few of the pills in his mouth.
Snorting with frustration, the other one pinched his nose shut, cutting off his air. A few minutes later, when he gasped for air, he shoved four pills into Ryan’s mouth. The neck of a liquor bottle followed, the tip clanking against his front teeth.
Ryan tried sticking his tongue into the end of the bottle, desperate to stop the booze. But he wasn’t fast enough. Raw liquor poured into his throat. He gagged and then swallowed, the pills floating down the back of his throat, riding a stinging wave of booze directly to his stomach.
As they tried to pry his mouth open for another handful of pills, Ryan wondered if he had managed to buy Tess enough time. Had she put enough distance between them? Was she out of McCaffrey’s reach?
The thought of McCaffrey touching Tess or caressing her with those cold, vacant eyes made Ryan wild. He bucked and thrashed, and the two men grunted, trying desperately to hold him still.
Ryan clamped his teeth down hard, biting one of the thugs. The man yelped and pulled back. Two pills slipped out.
As the thugs renewed their efforts, Ryan wondered if Tess knew how much he cared for her. If she realized how much he loved her. His head reeled. Why hadn’t he realized it before? Now he’d never have the chance to tell her how he felt or hold her again.
CIRCLING BACK, Tess entered the motel parking lot from the opposite end, near the office. She crouched behind a lattice wall hiding the oversize trash bin.
The green paint on the bin was flaking off and the stench was overpowering. A light was still on in the office, and she could see the clerk sitting behind the desk dozing. Stacy was still filing her nails.
The van was gone from in front of their room, but their car was still there. She hoped that meant Ryan was still in the room, still within her reach. She could only hope they left him alive.
Keeping to the shadows, she ran to the office and pushed open the door. The clerk and Stacy looked up in unison.
“Didn’t expect you back,” the old man grumbled.
Tess ignored him and focused her attention on the woman. “I need help.”
Stacy nodded. “I figured you weren’t expecting that little invasion. That’s why I told the old man to ring your room.” She laughed. “Hope they didn’t interrupt anything serious.”
The thought of Ryan rising up over her, his skilled touch and beautiful hands making her body sing with sweet fulfillment tore at her. But Tess shoved them aside. Not now. Later they’d talk and she’d be able to tell him what he meant to her. How she craved him like something sweet and forbidden.
She moved away from the window. “Will you help me?”
The woman blew a bubble with her pink gum and then sucked it back between her lips. “What did you have in mind, sugar?”
Tess pulled at her shirt. “A change of clothes for starters. Then we go trolling for a few boys down in room 36.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“My undying gratitude.”
Stacy laughed again. “Much less than my usual fee, but tonight’s your lucky night. I’m intrigued.” She stood up and nodded toward the back room. “Follow me. We’ll have you fixed up in no time.”
RYAN’S HEAD LOLLED forward and his chin hit his chest. Someone grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head back.
He tried to focus, but everything shifted and turned upside down. Nothing seemed to want to stay still. From somewhere in the back of his brain, a voice shouted at him to wake up. But none of his muscles wanted to cooperate.
Someone shoved three more pills into his mouth and followed it up with a healthy swig of booze. But Ryan coughed and everything shot out of his mouth and across the room.
He laughed and someone swore. But before they could start all over again, there was a sharp rap on the door.
“Help me get him on the bed,” one of the thugs said.
Two arms slipped under his and pulled him roughly to his feet. They threw him onto the bed, and he landed on his back. He tried to kick out but missed. He watched one of the men walk through a white haze to open the door. Ryan wondered if it was actually hazy in the room or if his vision was going.
The door opened to admit a redhead with a pair of knockers the size of party balloons. But it was the other woman, the one with the straight black hair and an overabundance of blue eye shadow who was the real knockout. A combination of beauty and kick-ass arrogance. He tried to lift his head to tell them to watch out, but his tongue wouldn’t work.
“You boys the ones who called for a party?” the redhead asked. She spotted Ryan on the bed and shot him a purple-lipsticked smile. “Looks like you boys got started without us.”
“You’ve got the wrong room,” the man growled, starting to close the door.
The dark-haired one jammed her three-inch-heel pump between the door and stuck out her hand. “Not so fast. We didn’t come all the way out here to get turned away. It’s fine by us if you changed your minds. But we need to make a living.”
Ryan thought the two women looked vaguely familiar, especially the dark-haired one. But he couldn’t get his head wrapped around who they were. He lifted his head and stared, spying the dark-haired beauty’s long legs in the leather short shorts. Damn, they were fine, and the fishnets were a nice touch. He’d have to tell Tess to hang on to the shorts and nylons. His eyes snapped open. Tess?
He caught the warning glance she directed toward him. Brilliant green. Yep, it was Tess in a wig and dressed for business. He opened his mouth to tell her that the guy at the door had a gun, but nothing came out.
“Shove off,” the goon said, starting to close the door again.
When he leaned forward to kick Tess’s foot out of the way, she came up with a nice right. Her fist connected with his chin and his head snapped back. He dropped like a stone, and his gun flew across the room.
Stacy screamed and Tess pushed her out of the way as she dived for the loose gun. Next to Ryan, the other thug tried to run, but Ryan stuck out his foot and the guy tripped. The thug scrambled on hands and knees for the bathroom and from the doorway, he got off two shots. Pieces of bedding and mattress flew up around Ryan’s ears.
Ryan drew up his knees and rolled backward off the bed, hitting the floor with a thud. Several more slugs hit the wall over his head and the plaster rained down on him. But then he heard the retort of another gun and knew Tess had located the revolver.
A few minutes later, there was a grunt and the guy in the bathroom fell out the doorway onto the worn carpet. Even with his blurry vision, Ryan could tell the guy wouldn’t be shoving any more pills down his throat.
“Are you okay?” Tess bent down next to him, her hands on his face, her eyes misted with tears.
“I’m juss fine,” he managed.
She leaned down and kissed him. “You also reek of booze.”
“Yuss, I do.”
“Help me get him up,” she said to Stacy.
They bent over him and pulled him to his feet. Ryan staggered against them. “Did yu know you’re both mighty fine lookin’ women.”
“And you’re loaded,” Tess said, turning her head to avoid the fumes of his breath. “Help me get him into the car. He can sleep it off in the back seat. We need to get out of here before the police come.”
They loaded him into the back seat, and he lifted his head, grabbing Stacy’s arm. “Dohn’t let her give you those leather shorts back. I’ve got plans for them.”
Stacy patted his cheek. “Don’t you fret, baby. Stacy will make sure she takes them with her.”
“Obviously he’s going to be fine if all he’s thinking about is the shorts,” Tess said dryly.
“He’s a man, sugar. It’s always about the shorts.”
The two women laughed again and the car door slammed.
Ryan smiled and let his head drop back against the seat. The world went softly dark around him.
BY THE TIME Ryan had slept off the drugs and alcohol, it was morning and they had arrived on the outskirts of D.C. His deep groan from the back seat told Tess he was awake, but she barely had to time to glance up to greet him as the traffic surrounding them was whipping past at a dizzying speed.
“There’s some orange juice in the cup holder and a semi-warm sausage biscuit in the bag.” She used one hand to steady the wheel and the other to throw a fast food bag over the seat to him. “There might be some hash browns in there, too, but I wouldn’t bank on it. They were pretty tasty and I was hungry a few miles back.”
He sat up and rubbed his face, his appearance endearingly grungie in her rearview mirror.
“How long was I out?” he asked, opening the bag and taking a whiff. His color turned a little greener, but she gave him credit-he didn’t lose anything.
“Long enough to have me worried. I pulled over a couple of times just to make sure you were still breathing. But you were snoring away peacefully every time.” She grinned at him in the mirror. “You’re cute when you’re drunk.”
“I don’t feel so cute,” he grumbled. “My mouth tastes like a five-day-old diaper pail.”
Tess shuddered. “Well, that’s romantic. Not to mention my concern about why you’d know how a five-day-old diaper pail actually tastes.” She passed another cup over the seat with one hand. “Here, drink this. Black coffee. It’ll take the edge off the headache.”
He took a sip and grimaced. “Or the enamel off my teeth.” He looked up again. “Where are we?”
“D.C.”
“Do you know where in D.C. we’re headed?” He took another bigger sip and some color came back into his face.
She shook her head. “No, I’m just going with the flow.”
She truly didn’t know their destination. She only knew that she’d recognize it when she saw it. Ryan didn’t question her. He simply leaned against the seat and sipped his coffee.
At one point, when they slowed to a crawl in the heavy traffic, he passed her his cup of coffee, climbed over the front seat and settled into the passenger’s side.
They came down Massachusetts Ave., driving deeper into the heart of Washington. “Where are we?” Ryan asked, leaning forward to look for street signs.
“I have no idea, but wherever it is, it’s beginning to feel right.” She pointed to a sign.
Dupont Circle.
The lush greenery and people crowding the sidewalks and benches told her they’d reached the park. They started around the circle with the rest of the traffic when she caught a sign for P Street out of the corner of her eye.
Without thinking, she snapped on her signal and turned onto the street. Spying a parking slot, she whipped the car into the empty spot. From the level of activity on the street, she was certain parking spots were a fairly rare occurrence. She realized just how rare when the driver of the SUV double-parked in front of them laid hard on the horn.
Ignoring the driver, Tess turned off the engine and they exited the car. She studied the historic buildings lining both sides of the street. Nothing struck a chord. None of it looked familiar.
She kept walking, paying attention to the relentless little itch at the back of her neck that told her to stay with it. To keep looking. Then, suddenly, it appeared. An elegant brownstone tucked neatly in between two other less impressive ones. A flood of emotions ripped through Tess and she stopped dead.
She sensed Ryan moving closer and she put her hand out, asking him to give her a minute. Instinctively he seemed to know what she wanted, because he didn’t speak. He waited, giving her the space she needed to reach for the memories on her own.
She walked up to the cast-iron gate surrounding the postage-stamp yard and wrapped her fingers around the sun-warmed metal. Her gaze rolled over the reddish stone steps leading to the double oak front door.
The main floor of the building had floor-to-ceiling windows, each with window boxes sporting red-and-white geraniums. Affixed to the right of the front door were the polished brass numbers: 5687.
Tess’s pulse kicked up a beat, and her fingers tightened around the metal spikes of the gate. “I know this place.”
“Let it come,” Ryan said softly. He shifted and the warmth of his big frame pressed in on her, lending his support and encouragement. She leaned into the gate, straining to capture the memory that danced in the background. She closed her eyes and let the images come.
Light. Laughter. A child’s giggle.
Glass library doors opened to a large room with hardwood floors covered with elegant rugs in bright, rich colors. Huge couches and tapestry chairs with carved wooden backs and arms clustered around an oversize brick fireplace. A welcoming fire burned behind the gate.
Tess got the sensation of cold pressing in on the windows glowing with the warmth from inside. It was winter.
She allowed her gaze to shift, to take in the entire room.
The main focus of the room was a grand piano. Rich mahogany wood polished to a high gloss. Someone was playing the piano, the notes crisp and sweet.
Tess pressed her body against the gate, trying to see more, and as she strained to see, she heard again the giggle of a young child. She blinked and the images wavered. Frightened of everything shutting down again, she tightened her grip on the gate.
Don’t stop, she begged silently. Don’t leave me here.
The images sharpened and she saw a child, a young girl with white-blond hair, run into the room. She was about seven or eight, dressed in a flannel nightgown and a battered rag doll clutched close to her chest. The sight of the doll sent a shock through Tess. She fought to breathe.
“Emmie,” she whispered, the words catching and rasping in her throat. “My doll, Emmie.”
Ryan’s hands lightly touched her shoulders, and her breathing calmed. The little girl ran across the room, her bare feet slapping softly on the hardwood floor, and suddenly Tess could feel the cool wood of the floor beneath the soles of her feet.
A bolt of surprise ripped through her. She was the little girl! She concentrated, straining to push aside the fog.
She reached the piano, her small childlike fingers reaching up to touch the smooth surface of the ivory keys. And then, as quickly as the mist had appeared, it parted and she could see the man at the piano. He had deep brown eyes and a broad, strikingly handsome face. He continued to play, his large hands moving effortlessly over the keys.
He turned his head and his mouth stretched into a welcoming, loving smile. “Hello, Pumpkin.” The voice was soft, melodious and so familiar to her ears that she felt tears prick the corners of her eyes.
“Daddy.” She basked in the warmth of the man’s smile, and her fingertips ached from their grip on the gate. She sagged, and a headache of monumental proportions stabbed the top of her head.
Ryan caught her and pulled her against him, wrapping her in his strong arms. “Easy, Tess. Slow, deep breaths.”
Tess fought the overwhelming urge to slip away, to succumb to the strange heaviness that pulled at her. But instead, she straightened up and turned to face Ryan. He steadied her, his eyes searching her with a thousand unanswered questions.
“I saw him. I saw my real father,” she said.
“Your real father?”
“Flynn lied. He’s not my father.” She fought a wave of dizziness. “Flynn’s my stepfather.” She laid her forehead against Ryan’s chest, and her arms slipped up to encircle his neck. An unbelievable sense of peace and contentment washed over her. “Do you have any idea how good that feels? How comforting it is to know that someone truly loves you?”
Ryan grinned and brushed away a strand of hair that had caught against the corner of her mouth. His touch was gentle. Loving. Familiar. “What do you remember about him?”
“He loved to play the piano. He was a wonderful musician.” She smiled slightly as the faint strains of music whispered again in her ear. “He could have been a concert pianist if he’d wanted. But he loved politics more.” She stared at Ryan with a sense of awe. “My name is Tess Ross and my father was a United States senator. He used to say, ‘the words of the U.S. Constitution are just as perfect sounding as the notes of Mozart, Pumpkin.’ H-he called me Pumpkin because I was born on Halloween.”
“Pumpkin.” Ryan held her close, his words whispering in her ear. “I like it.”
Tess swallowed, a terrible sadness welling up inside her, making it difficult to speak. Ryan’s arms tightened, cradling her and letting her know that it was okay to feel the emotions flooding her body. She wept, her tears soaking his shoulder.
Finally she lifted her head. “He died when I was twelve. A helicopter crash. He was traveling to-” She closed her eyes, digging down deep for the answer, and it came. “New York. A quick campaign trip in the fall right before my birthday. Momma stayed home with me because I couldn’t miss school.”
She turned to look back at the brownstone. “I lived here, right here in this house. With my mother and father. And my doll, Emmie.”
“Here now, what do you two think you’re doing over there?” a voice interrupted.
Tess turned to see a short, stocky man rounding the far corner of the brownstone. His chubby face held an expression of firm disapproval. He carried a gardening rake in one hand.
As he drew closer, he squinted and then stopped short. A wide smile of welcome stretched his tiny mouth. “Ms. Ross! I didn’t recognize you.” He hurried over to unlatch the gate, throwing it open. “Why didn’t you call? I would have sent a car to the airport for you.”
“Do I know you?” Tess asked.
Startled, the man’s eyes widened and his bowlike mouth fell open. Without knowing why, Tess had the feeling that he was a man that wasn’t often at a loss for words.
“Know you? Of course you know me.” He glanced over at Ryan, his confusion splashed plainly across his face. Not recognizing Ryan, he turned back to Tess again. A frown had sprung up between his thick eyebrows. “I’m Pete, miss. Pete Waverly-your caretaker.”
Tess shook her head. Nothing. Not even a fragment of memory. How could she have remembered so much a few minutes ago and now remember nothing?
Ryan pressed a reassuring hand to the small of her back. “Tess had an accident a few days ago, Mr. Waverly. She’s having a little trouble with her memory. But it’s coming back slowly.”
Concern flickered in the elderly man’s eyes and he immediately stepped forward to open the gate. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. We didn’t hear anything from you, so we thought all was going well with your trip.”
Tess nodded silently, racking her brain for some indication she knew this man. “Is this still my house?”
The question seemed to startle the caretaker, but he quickly recovered. “Of course it is, miss. Been yours ever since your mama passed on five years ago.”
Tess nodded in Ryan’s direction. “This is my good friend, Ryan Donovan.”
Pete pumped Ryan’s hand. “Welcome.”
“Do I live here with anyone?” Tess’s heart hammered against her rib cage as she waited for the answer. She dreaded the possibility that Pete would tell her that Flynn was also a resident of the brownstone.
The barest hint of a smile touched one corner of Pete’s mouth. “Joan-” he glanced back and forth between the two of them “-that’s my wife. She does the inside work and I take care of the outside. We have a small apartment in the basement. But other than that, you live here by yourself-been that way since you took over the house.
“Joan and I always held out the hope that you’d find a nice man and settle down. But you’ve been too busy for that.”
His eyes seemed to lose focus and he got a faraway look. “Your daddy used to call you his greatest hope for the first woman president.” He laughed. “Course, you’d have none of that. Told him you were going to be a newspaper reporter. But you always had your daddy’s good instincts when it came to people. Knew how to tell the fakes and con artists, you did.” His gaze sharpened again, taking on a hint of sadness. “Your mama wasn’t so lucky.”
“You’re talking about my mother’s second husband, General Thomas Flynn, aren’t you?” Tess asked.
Ill-disguised resentment flashed across the caretaker’s lined face. “How’d you guess? Course you knew what he was up to two seconds after he stepped foot in this house. You were only thirteen, but you were already speaking your mind. Let him know in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t going to step into your daddy’s shoes or use his name to advance any of his conservative causes.”
“Ms. Ross’s memories of those years are very sketchy, Pete. Do you have any knowledge of Ms. Ross suffering from any illnesses?” Ryan asked.
Tess tightened her hand on his, scared for the first time that someone might actually confirm what Flynn had reported as her history of mental illness.
The old man seemed to give the thought serious consideration for a moment, but then he shook his head. “Nope, can’t say that I can. She was a pretty healthy kid. A broken leg when she was fifteen.”
He looked at Tess. “You’ve always had a bit of the dare-devil in you. Even independent when it came to picking schools. The general, he wanted you to go to George Washington University, but you insisted on R.I.T. And then you landed yourself a job working for a small magazine shortly after graduating-in Paris, France. Flynn tried to pressure you to take a job at a conservative paper he had some pull at. But you wouldn’t hear of it. You were off to see the world. You really don’t remember any of this, do you?”
Tess shook her head. “None of it.”
“Well, come along then and I’ll show you the house. No sense in us standing out here in the middle of the sidewalk entertaining the neighbors.” He stepped back and waved them into the yard.
The three of them climbed the stone steps leading to the heavy oak doors to the brownstone. Pete lifted an oversize ring attached to his belt, carefully selected a key and inserted it into the lock. As the door swung open, he stepped aside, allowing them into the brownstone’s entry hall first.
“Joan is up in Philly, visiting her mom.” He glanced anxiously in Tess’s direction. “Her mom is in a nursing home there. She’d have been here if we knew you were coming. She wouldn’t have missed your homecoming for the world. But your last message said you wouldn’t be back until the end of July-maybe even August.”
“How did Ms. Ross get that message to you?” Ryan asked.
“She e-mails us every week with an update on her itinerary. She travels so much that one week she’s in Greece and the next time we hear, she’s in Moscow.” He smiled. “You’ve never liked phone calls.”
“Did you keep those e-mails by any chance?” Tess asked. At Ryan’s questioning glance, she added, “Someone might be able to trace the e-mails back to the location they were sent from.”
“Joan might have kept them. I’m not too good at using that dang computer so she prints the messages out for me and leaves them for me to read. I’ll check.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Tess said.
“I’ll let you get settled while I go down to the store and have a new key made.” The map of wrinkles around the man’s eyes crinkled with concern as he studied Tess’s face. “You sure everything is going to be okay, Ms. Ross?”
Tess smiled at him, acknowledging the man’s generosity. “I’m going to be fine. I just need some time to reacclimate myself to things around here.” She didn’t say it, but deep down she hoped that was all she needed. But the fact that she hadn’t even recognized a man who obviously had been in her family’s employ for years didn’t do much to bolster her level of confidence.
Whatever Flynn and his cronies had done, it had taken a heavy toll on her brain, wiping it cleaner than a newly scrubbed floor. Getting those memories back wasn’t going to be as easy as simply reintroducing her to her old life.
Pete left, pulling the door shut after him and sealing them in a heavy silence.
Tess looked around the hall, taking in the polished hardwood floor, the ornate cherry banister and staircase leading to the second floor. She didn’t miss the antique umbrella stand occupying a corner next to a walnut wardrobe with leaded glass doors. “Apparently, I have very good taste.”
“Or an excellent decorator and more than a little money.”
“Don’t tell me-you’re the kind of guy who can’t handle rich babes, right?”
“Oh, I’m rather partial to rich babes.” He stepped in close, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her up against him. His hands slipped down to cup her behind and he lifted her, pressing her tight to his body. “I’ll have you know that I’m an expert at handling rich babes.”
She laughed, but Ryan cut her off by dipping his head and pressing his lips to hers, and in that single instant, the gentle but persistent pressure of his kiss wiped away her worries about forgotten memories.
She lost herself in the heat of his kiss, and it was then that she realized it didn’t matter how long it took to regain her memory. Ryan was what mattered, the sweetness of what she felt for him. The wondrous sensations he created within her with each glance, with every word spoken. It was Ryan, not the memories, that made her life complete. She loved him.
Tess slid her hands up the length of his back, savoring the feel of him, the strength, the power of his muscles shifting and moving beneath the smooth cloth of his shirt.
She tilted her head back and stared up into those endless blue eyes. “I’ve forgotten to thank you, haven’t I?”
“For what?” he asked absently, his mouth gently nibbling her bottom lip.
“For everything you’ve done. For sticking by me through this.”
His lips moved to the side of her neck, the kisses and tiny nips scorching her skin and setting her insides on fire. He lifted his head long enough to say, “I’ll consider this my thank-you.”
“Oh, I’m sure I could do better.”
“You have my permission to work on it.”
“How long do you think it will take Pete to get a key made?”
“Why? What do you have in mind?”
He bent down and slid an arm under her legs, picking her up. “Do you think you could remember where the bedroom is in this monstrosity?” he teased.
Tess reached out and stroked the side of his face, her fingers touching the bristle of dark beard, smoothing the lines of fatigue in the corners of his eyes. “Have I mentioned how much I love you?”
He paused, his eyes widening slightly at her confession. “No, you haven’t.”
“Want to hear me say it again?”
He nodded.
“I love you. I love your mind. I love your body. I love the way you look at me. In short, I love everything about you, Ryan Donovan.”
She leaned forward and kissed him and her hunger for him shifted and curled in her belly, allowing her to melt against him. This was where she wanted to be, in his arms.
Ryan pulled back a little and looked down at her. A small smile curled the corner of his mouth. “But the million-dollar question is, do you need me?”
She paused, sucking in air through a throat that felt as though it might close down on her. Damn. The need question. The thing that meant admitting that she depended on him, that she leaned on him and couldn’t get by without him.
A part of her, a part so deep that it seemed almost buried, knew the truth. Knew what she’d already admitted to herself-that she couldn’t get by without him. But to admit it openly? To confess that it was true? How could she? That meant surrender. Loss of herself. And if she surrendered, she’d never get back the person she was.
“Isn’t love enough?” she asked.
A flicker of sadness flashed in the depths of his eyes, and he nodded. “For now it is.”
He bent his head and pressed his lips to hers.