her a card with directions to one of the homeless shelters.”
Homeless shelter. Eric thought of the woman, with her cloudy blue eyes and sweet, sexy smile. Who knew what would happen to a woman who looked like her if they placed her on the streets with no memory?
He couldn’t let that happen. “Don’t discharge her yet,” he said. “Let me find Dr. Patel. Do you know where she is?” But he hung up before the nurse could reply.
Striding down toward the emergency department—a place that seemed more familiar than his own town house—Eric refused to consider the hundred reasons why he shouldn’t get involved. After all, it was just a matter of time until her memory returned or Ryan figured out her identity. Once that happened, Eric could return her safely to her home and consider a good deed done. Especially since he knew he couldn’t live with himself if he let a woman who had temporary amnesia be put out into the street to fend for herself.
If there was more to it than that, he refused to think about it. He had to protect her, no matter what the cost.
When Eric arrived back at the mystery woman’s room, a nurse was with her, messing with the controls on one of the monitors. She now sat on the edge of her bed, her wavy hair tied back in a neat ponytail. Rather than the hospital gown, she wore some ill-fitting clothes that obviously had come from the lost and found. Considering whatever she’d been wearing had probably been cut off her, the nurses hadn’t had a choice, but the sight still offended him.
When her unusually colored eyes met his, he again felt a sense of connection and attraction.
“Back again?” she asked, her generous mouth curving in a smile.
“Hey, there,” he said softly, trying like hell to maintain a professional demeanor under the watchful gaze of her nurse. “I hear you’re well enough to go home.”
The misery in her expression spoke louder than words. “That’s what they’ve told me. Unfortunately, I have no idea where home might be.” She couldn’t quite disguise the terror in her voice.
He cleared his throat, pretending not to be affected.
“Well, then, it’s a good thing I’m here.” He kept his voice light and carefree, as if speaking to a child instead of a beautiful woman. “I’m going to take you to my place. You can stay there until your memory comes back.”
The nurse gasped, then scowled at him, her silent disapproval making him want to ask her to leave.
“Your place?” Her frown deepened. “Are we friends, then?”
“Sort of.” He didn’t want to lie, but he also didn’t want to frighten her. “I brought you in here. I can’t let them send you out into the street with nowhere to go.”
He looked at the nurse, who still stared at him. “Could you please find Dr. Patel and send her here? She and I need to talk.”
With a curt nod, the woman left the room. He turned his attention back to the patient—not his patient, he reminded himself. “I promise you’ll be safe with me.”
Considering him, her gaze serious, she lifted her chin. He was prepared for her to argue. Relief filled him when she simply nodded. “You’re a doctor. I have to believe you wouldn’t take advantage of me.”
“I won’t.” He took a deep breath, well aware that as far as the rest of the world was concerned, he walked a fine line. Since he took care to be meticulous, he’d be exceedingly careful now. “Are you about ready, MW?”
One arched brow rose. “MW?”
“Mystery Woman. I refuse to call you Jane Doe.”
Regarding him with a bemused expression, she finally nodded. “All right. And what should I call you?”
He almost said Dr. Colton, but at the last minute changed his mind. “Eric. My name is Eric.”
“The nurse said Dr. Patel had to sign my discharge papers. Even though you asked the nurse to send her, I don’t have any idea how long that will take.”
Eric knew, depending on how busy the attending physician might be, that a discharge could take hours. But not with him expediting things. “Let me check on those. Will you wait right here until I get back?”
A brief flash of humor sparked in her eyes. With a graceful motion, she shoved the wisps of her unruly hair that had escaped her ponytail away from her face. “Sure. After all, where else am I going to go?”
The nurse had disappeared. Whether to find Dr. Patel or attend to other patients, he didn’t know. After locating the discharge papers at the nurse’s station, he hunted down Dr. Patel, and got them signed. He sidestepped his colleague’s questions, keeping his answers purposely vague.
Snagging one of the available wheelchairs on the way, he went to collect his new houseguest. When he got to her room, he was surprised to find her standing, clutching the bed frame.
“Hospital protocol,” he said, gesturing at the wheelchair. “Let me help you get seated.”
“I can do it.” Waving away his offer, and moving slowly, she made it to the end of the bed and then took the necessary steps to reach the wheelchair. Even in this, her movements were graceful.
Feeling inordinately proud, he grinned at her. “Are you ready?”
After a moment’s hesitation, she smiled back. “Let’s rock and roll.”
Bemused and glad she couldn’t see his face, he began pushing the chair. When they reached the lobby, he hailed a cab, bundled her up into it and gave the cabbie his address.
She glanced around her in curiosity as they headed toward his town house.
Once there, he had MW sling her arm around his shoulders and supported her on the short sidewalk to his town house, despite her protests that she could walk just fine. He liked the way she felt, all lush and curvy, not a bony toothpick like some of the women he’d dated in the past.
“Hungover or injured?” a feminine voice drawled. He jumped. His sister, Greta. He’d managed to completely forget their lunch date.
“Injured,” MW replied, her mild tone at odds with the arch look she gave him. “Though I kept insisting I can do this, Eric here refuses to believe me. I’m sorry, Mrs....?”
“Miss,” Greta corrected with an inquisitive smile. “I’m Greta. Eric’s sister.”
His heart sank. Realizing Greta would spin an entirely innocent occurrence into a fantastical story to entertain his family and anyone else who would listen, he hurriedly recounted the events of the night before.
“So I have no memory,” MW put in when he’d finished. “And your brother was kind enough to offer me a place to stay.”
Despite her casual attitude, Greta appeared as if she’d been punched in the stomach. He shot her a look, telling her not to say out loud whatever she might be considering saying.
