that had threatened to wipe any reasonable thoughts from his mind.
He shook his head as he gazed down on her. She sat on the bed, looking stunned, her blue eyes wide, her breath coming in little gasps as she clenched and unclenched her fingers on the sheet.
“I’m sorry,” he managed to say.
“Are you?”
“Of course. That was completely inappropriate.”
“I think it took both of us by surprise,” she said, making an excuse.
“You’re a patient.”
Ignoring the observation, she said, “What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
“Touching you made me recall things I couldn’t remember for myself. And I got inside your mind, too. I didn’t know a thing about you before we touched. Now I know you always went in for dangerous sports. Like mountain climbing. Spelunking. And ice camping.”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“They made me feel alive,” he said, unaccountably admitting something to this woman that he had always kept to himself.
“And recently you were in Africa. In the middle of a nasty little war. They were shooting at you, and the guy next to you was killed. You stayed hidden, with him on top of you, soaking your clothes with his blood, until it got dark and you could sneak away.”
He answered with a small wordless nod. It was something he’d tried to forget, and she’d pulled it from his memories.
“You went there to help people, and you saved a lot of lives. But you never knew quite how to connect with anyone.” She gulped. “Just like me.”
The admission jolted him. “What do you mean?”
She kept her gaze fixed on him. “You were in my head. You know I’m like you, with that feeling of not being able to...relate to people on the deep level you crave. Like everybody else has a secret handshake, only nobody ever taught it to you.”
He’d never thought of it quite that way, but he nodded, because she had spoken the truth. All his adult life—all his life, really—he’d been searching for something he was sure he could not find. Something other people had, but he lacked. Until now, with this woman. But that couldn’t be possible—not after all the years of being alone.
“Why you?” he whispered.
“I don’t know.”
“Because you can’t remember your past?”
“What would that have to do with it?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“But touching you brought back memories I couldn’t reach a few minutes ago,” she said again.
He nodded.
“Let’s take it from the opposite angle. Why you?” she murmured.
“I have no idea.”
Neither one of them seemed capable of looking away from the other. But he took another step from her, because he was so off-kilter that he wasn’t sure what to do. Maybe something crazy like reach for her again, because touching her had been like every aching fantasy he’d ever experienced.
She moistened her lips. “What exactly happened?”
“I don’t know. But I found out that your name is Elizabeth.”
She gave a nervous laugh. “I have amnesia, but when you touched me, you brought some of my memories back.”
“Yes.”
“Did that ever happen to you before?” she asked.
“No. To you?”
“No.” She laughed again. “At least I don’t think so. The only personal things I remember are what you gave me.”
There was no logic to what she’d just said. And she might have been lying. But he didn’t think so.
He saw the challenge in her eyes and heard it in her voice. “We could try it again. Maybe you can bring back more of me.”
“I can’t.”
“Even when I’m alone and desperate?” she asked in a low voice.
Her words and the pleading look in her eyes made his throat tighten. More than that, when he touched her, he sensed that she was a good person. She didn’t deserve what had happened to her, although he knew objectively that being good or bad didn’t have anything to do with what people endured.
Like the guy next to him getting shot. Jerry had been a good person, too. But anyone could lead an exemplary life and end up being killed by a stray bullet that came through the living-room wall.
Dr. Delano pushed the disturbing images out of his mind and managed to say, “It wasn’t just memories. At least for me. There was another aspect to it.”
He saw her flush. “Not just memories,” she agreed, then looked down at her hands. “Sexual arousal,” she whispered.
“But that was completely inappropriate. I’m your doctor. There can’t be anything personal between us.”
She took her lower lip between her teeth. “Even if your touching me makes me remember? I mean, isn’t that...medically beneficial?”
“I’m afraid I can’t stretch the definition that far.”
She played with the edge of the sheet again, pleating it between her thumb and finger. “That last scene—where the guy dragged me out of the car. I don’t think he was trying to help me. He looked relieved to have caught up with me—but not in a good way.”
“I think that’s right.”
“I think he was following me, and I was trying to get away. That’s why I crashed into a lamppost. I was desperate to escape from him and the other guy—the one who was driving.”
“Do you remember it that way?”
Frustration flared in her eyes. “Not on my own. I think that’s what you picked up from me, right?”
He nodded.
“So, odd as it sounds, it must be true, because you saw what I couldn’t.”
“Yeah.”
“Probably it would be a good idea to avoid running into him again. If I knew who he was and why he wanted to hurt me.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You sound like a computerized therapy program, agreeing with everything I’m saying but not adding anything—besides what you pulled
