in the center of the pond, and a water spray flowed continuously from the mouth of the fish.
A heavy feeling that had nothing to do with pregnancy settled in Leah’s stomach. Hunter had loved that particular view, and seeing him sitting there, staring out the window was déjà vu. He’d once told her that all that lush greenery had a soothing, calming effect and was a stark contrast to the depressing shades of gray he was used to seeing. He’d said that the only green to be found in New York City was in Central Park.
When Hunter pulled his gaze from the window and stared up at her, the uneasy, jittery feeling she’d had when she’d first seen him on the porch returned with a vengeance. She quickly placed a pair of jeans and a folded knit shirt on the table. “These should fit you,” she said as she backed away. “Sorry there’s no underwear, but even if there was—I mean, even if my uncle had left some, I figured you wouldn’t want to wear someone else’s.”
She was babbling, she realized, babbling because being in such proximity to him, along with the lies she’d already told, was making her nervous. But who wouldn’t be nervous, given the circumstances?
Taking a deep breath, Leah motioned toward the doorway that led to the guest bathroom. “Just down that hallway to the right is a bathroom you can use when you’re ready. I laid out a couple of clean towels and a washcloth. I also left a new razor and toothbrush on the countertop next to the sink.”
Hunter narrowed his eyes and stared at her. “Why are you doing this? There’s no way I can repay you.”
Leah felt her cheeks burn with guilt. Unable to face him, she quickly turned away. “What are friends for?” she murmured, almost choking on the words as she busied herself with preparations for breakfast. “Friends” didn’t begin to describe their relationship, but until she knew more about what had happened to him and why, being friends was a lot safer.
Hunter Davis.
As Hunter entered the bathroom, he mulled over his name. Not wanting any unwelcome surprises, he locked the door behind him, and then glanced around the small room. The name felt right, felt as if it fit and was a hell of a lot better than just plain John Doe. But he didn’t remember it. Even knowing his name hadn’t produced the breakthrough that he’d hoped for. His mind was still a blank.
He eyed the jeans and shirt that the woman named Leah had given him and wondered if, like his name, they would fit. Anything had to be better than the hospital scrubs he’d worn for the past three days. Like him, the scrubs were beginning to smell a little too ripe.
Hunter closed his eyes and breathed deeply and slowly. Leah…Leah Johnson…Leah Johnson… He silently repeated the woman’s name.
Nothing. No revelation, no sudden memories. Nothing.
With a frustrated sigh, he picked up the toothbrush and tore off the packaging. When he’d finished brushing his teeth, he used a bar of soap to lather his face and shaved.
His insides quivered with frustration as he rinsed then dried his face. Throwing the towel on the countertop, he stepped over to the shower, jerked back the shower curtain, and turned on the water. Then he took off his watch and slipped off the shoes. After he stripped off the hospital scrubs, he kicked them into the corner.
There was no doubt that Leah Johnson was the woman in his flashbacks. She was even more beautiful face-to-face, and the extra pounds made her look even more womanly, more sexy.
Friends…
She’d said they were just “really good friends.” So if they were only friends, why would her face be the one he remembered? Even more puzzling, why the ache in his gut when he’d first seen her in the flesh, and why the overwhelming urge to crush her into his arms and taste her lips.
With a shake of his head, Hunter stepped into the shower. “Depends on her definition of ‘friends,’” he muttered. Just how good of friends were they? According to the visions he kept having, “friend” was far too tame to describe the relationship between them. Besides, he couldn’t imagine why he would be “just friends” with a woman as beautiful as she was…unless he was married.
Married. “Damn,” he grunted. It had never even occurred to him to ask her if he was married. Surely she would have said so if he was, wouldn’t she? And she hadn’t said so. Besides, if he was married, it stood to reason that he would have had flashes of his wife’s face, instead of just his friend’s face. And if he was married, why would he have come to New Orleans alone, instead of staying in New York? She’d said he’d come for an extended vacation, but that brought up yet another question. If he lived in New York and had just come for a vacation, why was it this address he remembered?
Too many questions and not enough answers, he decided as he turned his face into the spray. The water was steamy hot, and Hunter savored the feel of it against his skin.
It had been three days since he’d had a real shower. With almost no money, he’d been unable to afford even the shabbiest of motel rooms, neither for sleeping nor for cleaning up. Instead, he’d had to make do with washing up in public rest rooms along the way.
What he really needed was a hot whirlpool to soothe his aching right leg. It had been broken in two places when he’d been thrown from his car. According to the doctor who had treated him, it had healed nicely, but it still ached when he walked a lot. And he’d walked a lot during the past three days.
In addition to his leg aching like hell, the two nights he’d spent with hardly any sleep had exhausted him. By the time he’d found the address that kept flashing in and out of his head, it had been past midnight, far too late to be knocking on anyone’s door, especially someone he wasn’t sure he even knew.
He hadn’t meant to fall asleep on the porch. He’d only meant to sit there and wait until morning, until a decent hour to knock on the door. He’d chosen the spot near the steps to wait because he’d needed cover from the prying eyes of neighbors and any patrol cars that might pass by. After everything he’d been through, the last thing he’d wanted was to be picked up by the police, and the huge bush near the steps was wide enough and tall enough to provide just the right amount of cover.
Hunter wrinkled his nose and sniffed. The bathroom door was closed and the shower was running full blast, but he could swear he smelled bacon frying.
She’d said she would fix him breakfast, and Hunter’s mouth watered at just the thought of food.
Not only had it been three days since he’d showered, but the last meal he could remember eating was the egg sandwich he’d had yesterday morning. Unfortunately, it had been the last of his money as well.
At the thought of the money, Hunter swallowed hard and lathered his upper body. Then, using the washcloth, he scrubbed with a vengeance, as if doing so would scrub away the thoughts of how he’d gotten the money.
Stolen money.
Jumping the hospital guard outside his room and knocking him unconscious had been bad enough, but stealing the man’s wallet, his watch and his shoes was even worse. Hunter heaved a sigh. Desperate measures called for desperate actions, and he had been desperate…desperate to escape. Besides, it hadn’t been much money, just barely enough to eat on during the three days he’d been hitchhiking. The shoes weren’t that great, either. They were too tight for one thing. But wearing tight shoes beat the hell out of going barefoot. As for the watch, it wasn’t as if it was gold or anything. It probably didn’t cost more than twenty dollars at most.
Even
