as an old woman. An old woman here in this house, but not in this house the way it was now. And not because she be longed in it.
Strange. It felt as if there was something very strange about that dream. Even stranger than the dream itself. But since not one whit of her memory had returned as she’d slept, she didn’t know why the dream seemed strange or if it was telling her something.
Lying in bed thinking about it didn’t give her any answers and she was already embarrassed to have slept as late as she had, so she decided she couldn’t stay there pondering it.
Instead she sat up and gingerly swung her legs over the side of the mattress. She wasn’t sure if her head would pound again or if her neck and shoulders would still ache or if she’d still feel as weak. But all the remnants of the accident were gone and she felt fine.
Well, as fine as a person could feel when she didn’t remember who she was.
Fine enough for a shower and a good shampoo, although she had to be careful about that because she still had a pretty good gash from her temple into her hairline.
Once she was finished with her shower, she dressed in jeans and a rolled-neck gray sweater with an argyle pattern on the front. She applied a little blush and mascara to put some color into her still slightly wan face and then blew her hair dry and pulled it back with an elastic scrunchie only inches from the ends in back.
When she judged herself presentable, she opened the heavy drapes that covered the windows.
Outside the sky was just as gray and overcast as it had been the day before, although the pristine whiteness of the snow that blanketed everything helped to brighten things considerably.
The wind didn’t seem to be blowing anymore but flakes were still falling, adding to what she guessed to be about three feet of snow already piled up.
It made for a beautiful sight, though. Clean. Quiet. Peaceful. A good day to be inside, all cozy and comfortable and warm.
She saw two men in the distance then, heading for the state-of-the-art barn, but they were too far away for her to tell if one of them was Matt.
She hoped not.
Until that moment she’d assumed he would be somewhere nearby and she’d been counting on it. More than counting on it. She’d been eager to leave this room, to see him again.
But the thought that he might not be there—and the bitter wave of disappointment that washed through her along with it—told her just how eager she’d been.
Eager enough that it had been with him in mind that she’d chosen her sweater, she realized in a sudden flash of insight. Eager enough that it had been with him in mind that she’d shampooed her hair and left a few come-hither wisps to curl freely around her face and over the cut on her head to camouflage them. Eager enough that it had been with him in mind that she’d applied the makeup that made her look healthier. Eager enough that it had been with him in mind that she’d dabbed on a little of the perfume she’d found in her makeup bag.
But now she had to ask herself what in the world she’d been doing to actually be primping for a man in this, the worst of situations, when she should have been thinking only about how to straighten out what was going on with her.
But she knew the answer to that. And she closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to the frigid windowpane in disgust with herself.
She was just too attracted to the man.
At least the evening before she’d been able to convince herself that her attraction to him had been a result of her dazed state of mind.
But today she didn’t have the same excuse.
No, she wasn’t completely well. She did still have the knot on her head and her memory was just as messed up. But she wasn’t as foggy-headed as she’d been and she just couldn’t blame the attraction on that anymore.
The plain truth of it was that Matt McDermot was a nice, kind, pleasant, incredibly gorgeous, all-man man.
And she was attracted to him.
Who wouldn’t be, after all? Handsome rescuer. Big, strong, considerate, caretaking cowboy. It wasn’t much of a stretch to find him appealing since that was pretty powerful stuff.
But whether or not her weakness for him was understandable, Jenn knew she had to keep it under control. Because this was not the time nor the place to be looking for any kind of romance.
And she knew it.
She’d just have to bury the attraction the same way she’d buried the shaving kit filled with money in her suitcase so that neither Matt nor anyone else would know it existed.
She had more important things to deal with and she didn’t need the complication of trying to start up a relationship on top of everything else.
But one thing was different—and better—today, she told herself as she opened her eyes and moved away from the window. She might be as attracted to Matt McDermot but she didn’t have to be as vulnerable. She was more capable of resisting his allure now that her strength was back.
And resist it she would.
So, telling herself with conviction that it absolutely didn’t matter where he was, she made her bed, dragged her suitcase into the closet where it was out of the way, and tidied the room so completely there wasn’t a sign that she was in residence. Except for the teacup from the previous evening still on her bed table and she took that with her when she finally poked her nose out the bedroom door, intent on meeting head-on whatever or whoever was beyond it.
But whoever was beyond it was Matt, sitting on the hallway floor just outside her room, reading a newspaper.
“Mornin’,” he said, looking up at her from his lower perch.
“Hi,” Jenn returned, trying to keep the instant rise in her spirits from carrying her away and reminding herself that she was not—absolutely not—going to let her attraction to him have its way with her.
But that was easier said than done when she watched him push himself up the wall with the pure force of big cowboy-booted feet and thick-muscled legs that strained the denim of age-softened jeans until he was once more towering over her in magnificent masculinity.
“How’s the patient today?” he asked, genuine concern wrinkling his squarish forehead above penetrating green eyes that seemed to take in every inch of her.
“I’m much better,” she said a bit breathlessly, working to regain her equilibrium. “I’d say I was almost back to normal except that I still don’t know what normal is.”
“No return of the memory, huh?”
“Unfortunately not. I did have a dream that I was a very old woman, though, if that means anything.”
“Probably your brain’s perception of all those aches and pains you went to bed with last night.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Jenn admitted, pleased with the interpretation and thinking that it made more sense than anything she’d come up with. It didn’t explain why the dream had disturbed her, but then maybe feeling disturbed was just part and parcel
