and the crystal chandelier. “It’s difficult to picture Mike in this house,” Colin remarked. As he looked around, his attention riveted on the woman.
In darkness she had been attractive. In light she was stunning. Her flawless peaches-and-cream skin was perfection. Lush curves and long, shapely legs made him remember exactly how it had felt to hold her close against him. Enormous, thickly lashed, luminous blue eyes gazed at him with a disturbing sharpness.
Her thick, lustrous brown braid didn’t look as if a hair of it had been ruffled; he knew he looked as though he had survived a dogfight. He had the beginnings of bruises, his shirtsleeve was torn and he was bleeding from various and multiple scratches.
He realized he was staring at her. She was looking just as intently at him, which surprised him. But then everything about her amazed him, including her swift resistance and his getting tossed onto his backside.
“They don’t know you survived,” she repeated, her gaze going over him intently, a furrow wrinkling her forehead.
“For a long time no one knew otherwise,” he said, still scrutinizing her. Standing only a few feet away from her, he could detect her enticing perfume.
“When will Mike get home?” Colin persisted, trying to pull information out of her and wondering why Mike would tell the baby-sitter about him or his days in service, much less about the gift of his old rifle to Zach.
“Tomorrow,” she answered, and Colin swore under his breath.
“You’re bleeding,” she said. “We were going to do something about your cuts.” She led him down the hall into a large yellow-and-white bathroom with chairs, potted plants and a sunken, black-marble tub with gold fixtures. Motioning him to a chair, she opened a cabinet to retrieve small bandages, ointment and gauze. As she did, his gaze roamed freely over her. She took his breath. The thick braid was dark brown and he could imagine her hair hanging free.
She walked back to him and as their gazes met, he could feel the tension snap between them. Startled, emotions tore at him. He hadn’t felt this electricity with a woman in years. Not since—Abruptly he yanked his memories from the past. He didn’t want to feel anything now. He couldn’t afford to.
“If you’ll turn around, I’ll clean the cut on the back of your neck for you.”
He stood. “I’ll shower and wash all these cuts, then you can help me with the ones on the back of my neck.”
“I didn’t know you were a friend,” she said, studying him as if he had dropped from another planet.
“That’s all right. You just defended yourself and did a damn fine job of it.”
She nodded and left, closing the door behind her. He let out a breath and wiped his sweaty brow because she sent his temperature soaring.
Feeling stings all over his neck, hands and face from scratches she had inflicted, he showered, relishing the hot water pouring over him. If she didn’t teach martial arts, she could. Someone had taught her well and she must practice. Her reactions had been as quick as his, if not quicker. He had surprised her when she’d stepped into the hall, but she had caught him off guard when she’d fought back. He had to give her credit, she had handled the unexpected confrontation better than he had.
Colin dried and dressed again in the same clothes. He opened the door to call to her and paused, realizing he didn’t know what to call her. She’d been waiting in the hall and as soon as he opened the door, she sauntered toward him, entering the large, steamy room.
He moved to sit in the chair to let her put antiseptic on the scratches on the back of his neck. “I don’t know your name.”
“Yes, you do,” she said.
Startled, he stared at her. While her blue eyes twinkled, she smiled at him, which was pure delight. He almost wanted to smile in return. Puzzled, he said, “You said you’re not Savannah Remington. Do I know you?”
“Yes. If you’re really Colin, you do.”
“I wouldn’t have forgotten you,” he said, the words out before he thought.
In the depths of her eyes desire flickered and the silence between them dragged out as their gazes locked and sparks danced between them. She was beautiful, mysterious and unpredictable, and he was certain he had never met her before in his life.
He rubbed his head. There were blanks—times when memory had failed him—but she couldn’t have been any part of that period in his life. If she had, she wouldn’t want to tell him about it now. Not with a smile.
As the silence lengthened, his gaze lowered to her full, red lips and he wondered what it would be like to kiss her. He shocked himself. She caused him to long for things he hadn’t wanted in aeons. He moved closer to her, his gaze traveling over her features while he searched his memory.
She was far too beautiful for him to have forgotten her. Perplexed, he shook his head. “I can’t possibly know you.”
She laughed, a merry sound that wound warm tendrils around his stone-cold heart. “Remember an afternoon when you and Boone were on leave and went to the state fair?”
Dimly he recalled the incident. They’d had to take Boone’s kid sister and a little brother along. He stared at her. “There’s no damn way—”
“Yes, there is,” she replied, amused. “I’m Isabella. And don’t you dare call me Izzie.”
“You can’t be little Izzie,” he said, remembering a skinny kid who was all arms and legs and big eyes with braces on her teeth. “You’re Isabella Devlin,” he said, suddenly feeling as if someone had punched him in the middle.
He hadn’t seen Mike or Boone or Jonah for years. Isabella, Boone’s little sister, had been part of that earlier life of his. Other than his parents and brother, this was his first contact with his past since that explosion in that faraway land. Five years—an eternity in which his life had changed totally.
Emotions that he thought were as dead as he was supposed to be and often felt, surfaced, catching him off guard and tightening in his chest.
“Isabella,” he said in amazement, grasping her shoulder. “Those guys are like family. In some ways closer than my family because of what we did together…” His voice faded as his fingers clutched her shoulder. “Isabella,” he repeated in amazement.
Impulsively she reached out, wrapped her arms around him and held him.
Colin embraced her, inhaling her perfume, feeling a tie to his past with his best friends. Emotions tore at him; hurt for losses, relief to be with someone he could trust. Isabella—little Izzie—part of the Devlin family. He realized how tightly he was holding her and released her, stepping back.
She smiled and gestured for him to sit in the chair. “You don’t look the same, either.”
“No, I guess I don’t,” he said, his back to her. “I’ve had a lot of reconstructive surgery to put me back together. Damnation, you’re Izz—Isabella. No wonder you were a handful. Boone taught you how to protect yourself, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he did. And sometimes we still practice. I work out.”
“You’re
