now. And in no position to call the shots.” He paused and glanced back at her, his expression grim. “I’ll grab my keys and shoes. Don’t move.”
Gracie closed her eyes, breathing deeply, half convinced she was in the midst of a dark and disturbing nightmare. Surely she would wake up soon, and all of this would be a surreal fantasy. Gareth Wolff. She whispered the name aloud, searching for meaning. Why had she come to see him? What did her father want? And how did she get from Georgia to Virginia? Did she have luggage somewhere? A hotel room? A vehicle? Maybe even a laptop? Her tote held nothing but the phone, snacks and some tissues.
She froze, her brow furrowed in discomfort. How could she know what a laptop was and not even remember her own name?
Gareth strode back into the room, his feet shod in worn leather boots. Everything about the room she inhabited made Gracie feel at a disadvantage—the expensive bedding, the masculine decor, the large scale furniture… the total lack of anything familiar.
But something about those scarred boots eased the constriction in her chest. They struck her as normal. Human.
Gareth approached the bed, his face closed. “I’ve spoken to Jacob. He’s expecting us. Let’s go.”
Gracie screeched in shock when he gathered her up, blankets and all, in his strong arms.
He froze. “Did I hurt you? Sorry.” The gruff apology was instantaneous.
She shook her head, trembling as they traversed a wide hallway. “You startled me. That’s all.” Not for anything would she admit that being in his arms was exciting and comforting at the same time. His scent and the beat of his heart beneath her cheek aroused her and gave her the illusory sensation of security.
The earlier fleeting impressions she’d formed of wealth and privilege increased tenfold as they passed through the house. Gleaming hardwood floors. Western-themed rugs. Intricate chandeliers of elk horn shedding warm yellow light.
But Gareth walked too quickly for her to carry out any deeper inspection. In minutes they were out the front door and stepping into the scented cool of a late spring evening.
And how did she know it was spring? The little blips of instinctual information that popped into her head gave hope that her memories were simply tucked away in hiding. Not permanently gone… merely obscured by her injury.
Gareth carried her carefully, but impersonally. It wasn’t his fault if her hormones and heartbeat went haywire. He smelled of wood smoke and shampoo, a pleasing mélange of masculine odors. Despite his flashes of animosity, she felt safe in his embrace. He might not want her in his home, but he posed no threat to her well-being… at least not physically. The unseen dangers might prove to be more hazardous.
She liked being held by Gareth Wolff. What did that say about her?
Of course, her instinctive response could be attributed to something akin to Stockholm syndrome—the bonding between kidnapper and victim. Not that Gareth had done anything wrong. Quite the contrary. But at the moment, he was the only reality in her spinning world. He and his brother Jacob.
Most likely, her affinity for the surly Wolff brother was nothing more than an atavistic urge to seek protection from the unknown.
Gareth’s Jeep was parked outside a large garage at the rear of the house. The building, roomy enough to house a fleet of vehicles, had been designed to blend into the landscape, much like the house. A cedar shake roof and rustic, carefully hewn logs seemed to match the edge in her host’s personality. Gareth’s home was enormous and clearly expensive, but it suited his gruff demeanor.
Once he had tucked her into the passenger seat, he loped around the side of the vehicle and slid behind the wheel. Thick fog blanketed their surroundings. Gracie peered into the darkness, shivering slightly, not from the temperature, but from the feeling of being so isolated. She’d seen horror movies that rolled the opening sequence in a similarly creepy fashion.
She clenched her fist in the blanket and pulled it closer to her chest. “Where are we?”
Gareth shot her a quick glance. “Wolff Mountain.”
She cleared her throat. “I hope that’s not as sinister as it sounds.”
His quick snort of laughter ended as quickly as it began. She had a hunch he didn’t want to show any signs of softening toward her.
He wrenched the wheel to avoid a tiny rabbit that scampered in front of them. “This is my home. I grew up here with my two brothers and three cousins. I’m sure all of this will come back to you,” he snarled. “My family has no secrets.”
She wanted to ask for more details, more explanations, anything to fill in the blanks. But her innocent question had clearly hit a nerve. She lapsed into silence, using her free hand to grip the door of the vehicle as Gareth sent them hurtling around the side of the mountain.
The trip was mercifully brief. Without warning, another house loomed out of the eerie fog. This one was more modern than Gareth’s, all steel and glass. Almost antiseptic in design. Though in all fairness she wasn’t getting a first look at it in the best of situations.
Jacob met them at the door and ushered them inside, his eyes sharp with concern as Gareth set her on her feet. “Any change?”
The terse question was aimed more at Gareth than Gracie, so she kept her silence.
Gareth tossed his keys onto a black lacquer credenza. “She doesn’t remember details of her life. But functional knowledge appears to be unaffected. She knows how to use her phone, but the names are a mystery… or so she says.”
Gracie flushed. She was embarrassed and exhausted. The last thing she needed was Gareth’s mockery.
Jacob waved a hand toward a living room that looked like something out of a designer’s catalog. “Make yourself comfortable, bro. The game’s on channel fifty-two. Beer’s in the fridge.”
Gareth frowned. “I should come with you.”
Jacob put a hand on his shoulder. “Not appropriate, Gareth. Trust me. She’s in good hands.”
He turned to Gracie, his smile gentle. “Let’s get you checked out, little lady. I promise not to torture you too badly.”
Unlike Gareth, Jacob trusted her to walk on her own. She abandoned her cocoon of blankets in the foyer and followed him down a hallway to the back of the house. Everything was in black and white—walls, flooring, artwork… A highly sophisticated color scheme, but oddly cold and sterile.
When she stepped through a door into the clinic proper, all became clear. Jacob Wolff had designed his house to mirror his professional domain.
Gracie’s curiosity as she surveyed the state-of-the-art facility had nothing to do with her amnesia. She had never seen such equipment and facilities outside of a hospital. Even with her memory loss, she was sure of that.
As Jacob positioned the CT scanner, she cocked her head. “I may not remember much, but isn’t this setup a little unusual?”
His quick glance reminded her of Gareth. “I have a number of high profile patients who want to be able to get medical attention away from the eyes of the paparazzi.”
She
