Pregnesia. Carla Cassidy

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Lucas’s horror, she burst into tears. “I thought everything would be all right this morning,” she said between sobs. “I thought I’d wake up and I’d know who I was and what happened, but I don’t know any more now than I did last night.”

      The sobs were painful to watch. Lucas grabbed a handful of napkins and handed them to her. She was either the greatest actress on the face of the earth or she was telling the truth.

      She cried so hard he got worried about her, about the baby. He pulled up a chair next to her and awkwardly patted her back. “Don’t cry,” he said. “We’ll sort this out, but you’ve got to stop crying. It can’t be good for the baby.”

      That seemed to penetrate into her head, because the sobs wore down to sniffles, and finally ceased altogether. She wiped her cheeks, and when she looked at him once again, there was desperation in her eyes.

      “I’m so afraid,” she said. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to me.”

      “For now, nothing is going to happen,” Lucas replied. “You’re safe here. Loretta told me to tell you that you’re welcome to stay for a couple of days until you feel better.”

      Tears welled up in her eyes once again. “I can’t believe how kind you’re being to me.”

      He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t him, that his sister was the kind one. He was the cynical one who still didn’t know whether to believe her or not.

      But for the moment he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. If she was lying, then sooner or later he would know. If she was telling the truth, then he sure as hell didn’t want to be responsible for tossing a pregnant woman out on the streets all alone with no money and no memory.

      “Are you hungry?” he asked.

      “Starving. I can’t remember the last time I ate.” A half-hysterical spurt of laughter burst out of her.

      “Scrambled eggs okay?” he asked as he got up from the table.

      “Fine. But please, you don’t have to wait on me. If you’ll just show me where things are, I can do for myself.” She started to get up, but he waved her back down.

      “I’ll take care of it, just sit tight.” He got the eggs from the refrigerator and set to work making breakfast.

      As he worked she stared out the window, tiny frown lines dancing across her forehead. Again he was struck by her prettiness. She wasn’t screamingly drop-dead gorgeous, but rather she had a quiet, simmering beauty. He frowned and whipped the eggs more forcefully than necessary.

      The last thing he needed was to be attracted to her. She obviously had a man in her life. And in any case Lucas didn’t do relationships.

      She continued to stare out the window as if lost in thought while he fixed the eggs and popped in toast. Then once it was all done he placed the food on two plates, one for her and one for himself.

      “Lucas?” She turned to look at him, her blue eyes troubled. “I know this sounds crazy, but I have a terrible feeling that I’m in real danger.”

      He set the plates on the table with a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. This was growing more complicated by the minute. And there was nothing Lucas hated more than complication.

      JANE STARED AT HIM and tried not to notice that his dark hair had a gleaming shine to it that made it look silky soft and that he smelled like soap and shaving cream and a hint of a clean cologne. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

      Since the moment she’d told him that she didn’t know who she was, that she had no idea what had happened to her, she’d sensed his suspicious disbelief. And she wasn’t sure why it was so important to her that he accept what she was telling him.

      “I don’t know what I believe,” he finally replied. “I think it’s possible you had a fight with your boyfriend or husband or whatever, and you need a safe place to hide out until things cool off and the two of you can kiss and make up.”

      She reached up and touched her forehead with a frown. “I can’t imagine wanting to kiss and make up with anyone who did this to me.”

      He picked up his fork. “He’ll buy you flowers or candy and swear he’ll never touch you again and you’ll end up going back and things will be great until the next time he loses his temper.” His voice held a harshness in tone.

      “I wouldn’t be involved with a man like that,” she exclaimed.

      He raised a dark eyebrow. “How do you know?”

      She felt the warmth of a blush on her cheeks. “I might not know who I am, but I know what I’d tolerate, and I’d never stay with a man who put his hands on me.”

      She felt a swell of tears burning at her eyes and bit them back. She’d cried herself to sleep the night before and had awakened and cried some more. She was tired of crying. “Maybe nobody hit me. Maybe I just fell and hit my head on something,” she said.

      “I don’t think so,” he replied. “Do you have bruised knees? Scraped-up palms? Anything that might indicate you’d fallen?”

      “No.”

      “That scrape on your head doesn’t look like it’s the result of a fall. It looks like you were hit with something.” He leaned forward and she realized his dark eyes had tiny shards of silver in them. “You know, if you’re just scared and need a place to hang out for a couple of days, it’s all right to tell me. You don’t have to make up any stories.”

      “I’m not making anything up. I don’t know what to do to make you believe me. I don’t know what to say to make you understand that I’m not lying.”

      Those dark eyes of his studied her intently. “Eat your eggs and toast before they get cold.”

      They ate for a few minutes without speaking, until she couldn’t stand the tense silence another minute longer. “Your sister seems really nice,” she said.

      He nodded. “She’s a sucker for people in need.”

      “And you’re not?”

      The corners of his lips turned up in a humorless smile. “I’m not a sucker for anyone or anything.”

      “I know your sister is a nurse, but I’m not sure exactly what it is you do.”

      “I own a company, Recovery Inc., with two of my friends. We were all Navy SEALs together, and when we got out of the service we opened the business.”

      “And you repossess cars?”

      He frowned, as if the question irritated him. “Last night was not our normal kind of job. I did that as a favor for the owner of the car dealership.”

      “So, what is your normal kind of job?” she asked. It was a welcome relief to be wondering about him instead of wondering about herself.

      “We recover items and return them to the people they belong to. But it’s really not important what I do. What’s important is what we’re going to do about you.”

      “I

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