open back door and cursed under his breath. “Did you say something that would frighten her?”
“I told her a man who called himself Bob Wilson had been asking for her at the nurses’ station. That was before I called you, and you said the same guy had been to your office.”
Matt clenched his fists as he walked to the back door and looked out at the darkened yard. “She must have heard the doorbell, assumed the worst and ran. You look through the house in case she changed her mind and ducked back inside. I’ll look outside.”
“I’m sorry. I should have warned her that you were coming over,” Polly said.
“We’ll find her,” he said, to reassure himself and Mrs. Kramer. As he stepped onto the cracked patio, a security light came on.
“Elizabeth. Elizabeth, it’s me. Matt Delano,” he called.
When she didn’t answer, he looked around. Polly’s yard butted against the property in back of her and to the sides. Elizabeth would have to climb over several fences to get far. His gaze landed on the metal storage shed just inside the range of the security light.
Quickly he hurried to the door and thrust it open, although he didn’t charge inside, because his experiences in Africa had taught him not to rush into an enclosed space if he didn’t know who might be in there. Lucky for him. He jumped back as a baseball bat came swooshing down. It missed his head by less than an inch.
The woman holding the weapon stared at him. “Oh, Lord, Matthew. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. Polly told you someone called the nurses’ station, right?”
“Yes.”
“I think the same guy came to my office after he tried to get information from the staff. He said you were Elizabeth Simmons.”
“That doesn’t sound right. I mean the last name.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged, looking so lost and helpless that his heart turned over. But she wasn’t exactly helpless. Instinct had told her to run when she’d heard the doorbell ring. And she’d been prepared to defend herself.
He had vowed not to touch her again, yet the desperate look on her face drew him forward. Unable to stop himself, he reached for her, pulling her into his arms, holding her close as he stepped into the shed.
“She’s not inside. Did you find her?” Polly’s voice called from behind him.
“Yes. She’s fine. She’s in here. We’ll be right there,” he managed to say, amazed that he sounded so rational when his brain and his senses were already on overload.
He said they were coming back, but he didn’t move, only absorbed the reality of Elizabeth’s body molded against his.
He had been trying to stay away from her. Now he knew that was an impossible goal. Not when they already meant more to each other than anyone had ever meant to either one of them. It was a crazy evaluation. How could two people who had just met mean everything to each other? But he knew it was true as he wrapped her more tightly in his arms.
In the hospital he’d barely touched her—just his hand on her arm at first—and the memories had come. Then holding her closer had been enough to trigger additional memories and so much more. Now they were alone in a dark, private space where it was impossible to pull away from each other. At least that was the way it felt.
Her own arms came up and locked around his waist, holding him close, and he was lost to everything except the woman in his arms. Her sweet scent, the feel of her silky skin, the crush of her body against his.
The same thing happened as before. Memories flooded through him. Her memories. And he knew she was picking up things from him—things that he had tried hard to forget. He was traveling through the backcountry, and he had come to a village that looked deserted. But the smell rising from the huts told him a different story.
He forced himself to look in one, seeing the mangled bodies of a mother, a father and three children piled on the floor. He backed out, retching, unable to understand why anyone had felt compelled to slaughter innocent civilians who were just trying to live their lives as best they could. Had the rebels done it or the government? He didn’t even know.
He thrust away the horrible images and slammed into one of Elizabeth’s memories. An early recollection that had always torn at her. She was in an elementary-school classroom. He saw bright pictures on the wall, pictures painted by the students. And words that might be the spelling lesson for the week.
She was sitting in a chair, watching as other children leaped up and ran to their parents. It must be some sort of special school day, and everyone was hugging and interacting. But Elizabeth sat in her seat, and her mother was standing near the door. Finally Elizabeth got up and ran to the woman, the way the other children had done. But it wasn’t the same. Elizabeth knew it wasn’t the same, and so did her mother. They were separated in ways that Elizabeth didn’t understand. She wanted desperately to bridge that gap, but she didn’t know how.
The scene was an echo of his own memories. His parents had been well-off. They’d wanted the best for their son—and they’d given Matt everything they could. Even love. And Matt had tried to respond, but he simply couldn’t give them what they craved from him. What he craved, if he were honest about it.
And now he suddenly had what he had always been searching for, from a woman who was a stranger.
In her memory, he saw another scene. She was an adult now, bending over a bed, comforting a young and beautiful Asian woman who turned her head away and wouldn’t look her in the eye.
All of the memories—his and hers—made him sad. It was much more gratifying to focus on the here and now—on the woman he held in his arms.
His head had started to pound, but he ignored the pain as he moved farther back into the shed, taking her with him. The door was at an angle that made it close behind them, shutting them inside. In the dark, they clung to each other for support and a whole lot of other reasons.
He hadn’t admitted it, but he had needed so much more from her since the first moment he had touched her. Now, here, he couldn’t resist the pull. Unable to stop himself, he lowered his mouth to hers for a kiss that was almost frantic. His lips moved over hers, and he smiled when he realized she’d been tasting the dish she was cooking on the stove.
But he stopped thinking about the chili as he stroked his hands up and down her back. Seeking more, he lifted the hem of the T-shirt she was wearing and slipped his hands underneath, flattening them against her warm skin, loving the feel of her and the contact that was so much more than he could put into words.
He knew he was arousing her, just as she knew she was arousing him. Holding her, kissing her, touching her was so very sexual, even with the underlying layers of memories from her past and his.
He’d made love with women before, looking for something that he was sure he wasn’t going to find. Sex had always been physically satisfying, but there had invariably been something missing, the same disappointment that had dogged his life.
Again he knew it was like that for her. Searching and never finding. Until now.
I didn’t go out and sleep with a bunch of guys.
I
