he turned to leave, running from temptation if the truth were told, she stopped him with a beseeching look. “Please tell me about your family… this place. Maybe something you say will trigger a memory.”
“That’s a convenient excuse.” He still wasn’t convinced that Gracie wasn’t a reporter looking for a story. His family had suffered terribly at the hands of the press, the Wolff tragedy and grief offered up for public consumption without remorse. Never again.
Dark smudges beneath her eyes emphasized her pallor. “Please,” she said quietly. “Anything. Tell me anything. I’ve combed my cell phone and I did a Google search on myself and my father. But I didn’t find out much except that we own a gallery.”
In spite of himself, compassion surfaced. “You’re on top of a mountain in the Blue Ridge. My family moved here in the eighties. My uncle and my father live in a huge house at the very peak. My siblings and cousins and I are in varying stages of building homes here as well.”
She frowned. “You all live here together? Like a commune?”
“Not a commune,” he grated. “It’s over a thousand acres. We’re hardly in each other’s pockets.”
“So, more like the Kennedys at Hyannis Port.”
“I suppose. But none of us are in politics, thank God.”
“You’re wealthy.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You could say that.” It was damned hard to carry on a conversation when he kept getting distracted by the way her nipples pressed against the soft knit fabric. All he had to do was reach for her arm and pull her against him. The knowledge dried his mouth. He didn’t think she would stop him. Though not any more vain than the next man, he had seen interest in her unguarded gaze earlier in the day.
But he was an honorable man. Damn it.
She frowned. “If I hiked through the woods, how did I know which house was yours?”
“You had an aerial photograph in your bag.” He shrugged. “My place is circled in black marker.”
Now, every last shred of color leached from her face. “So all we know for sure is that I was trespassing and that I wanted something from you.”
“That’s it in a nutshell. And based on the conversation you had with your father, he knows why you came and thinks you’re faking amnesia to get what you want.”
Her lips twisted. “Maybe I don’t want to remember. It sounds like I’m not a very nice person.” She paused. “Why didn’t I simply drive up the road?”
“It’s private. You wouldn’t have gotten past the guard gate without an appointment.”
“Hence my ill-advised hike.”
“Apparently.”
“I’m sorry,” she said simply.
“For what?”
“For whatever I was going to do. I wish I could remember.”
“When you came to my door, you said you needed to talk to me about something.”
“And then what happened?”
He felt his neck redden. “I may have been a trifle unwelcoming.”
Her mouth fell open, and a flicker of emotion akin to fear flashed in her eyes. “You pushed me off your porch?”
“Oh, for God’s sake. No. Of course not. All I did was tell you to leave. Forcefully. You backed away from me, and…”
“I fell.”
“Yes.” He was uncomfortably aware that the family lawyer would be hyperventilating by now if he were here to track the conversation. Gareth had pretty much incriminated himself.
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “It was an accident. And you were breaking the law. So don’t go getting any ideas about draining us dry. We have a legal team that would chew you to pieces.”
“Why do you need a legal team?”
This conversation had gone on long enough. “Go to bed, Gracie. Get some sleep. Maybe when you wake up, all will be clear.”
She hesitated, looking at him with need that went beyond simple survival. He wondered if she understood the feminine invitation she was unwittingly telegraphing. Deliberate or not, every bit of testosterone in him responded with a hell, yeah.
Groaning inwardly, he turned his back on her and left the room.
When Gracie woke up, the sun was high in the sky, the clock said it was noon and nothing was any clearer than it had been the night before. She leaped from the bed and then staggered when the pounding in her skull threatened to send her to her knees.
A hand to the wall and several long breaths finally steadied her. This time, the woman in mirror looked more familiar. She brushed her teeth, put on her clean undies and her not-so-clean clothes and went in search of food. The house was quiet, too quiet. In the kitchen she found a note scrawled in bold masculine handwriting. Plenty of food in the fridge. Help yourself. I’m working. Will check on you midafternoon.
She crumpled the paper and tossed it in the trash. Working? What did that mean? A sandwich and a banana later, the front doorbell rang. Gracie waited a few seconds to see if Gareth would appear. But when the bell rang a second time, she walked quickly toward the front of the house, grimacing when she saw her reflection in a mirror. She was hardly fit for company.
The woman who stood on the porch was a surprise. She gave Gracie a blinding smile and muscled her way through the door, forcing a befuddled Gracie to step back.
“I’m Annalise,” she said, holding out a hand after she dropped an armload of packages on the nearest chair. “Jacob had your height and weight, so we guessed at sizes. I’ve got all the basics, I hope. Enough to see you through at least a week. After that, we’ll see.”
“Well, I…”
Annalise was already pulling things out of packages. “My favorite boutique in Charlottesville couriered over everything I asked for. The manager there is really sweet.”
Gracie quivered with alarm. She had no clue about her own finances. What if she couldn’t afford all this? And heaven knew how much the delivery charges were. “Um, Annalise…” she said as she tried to slow down the mini tornado. “I really only need one change of clothing. I do appreciate all the trouble you’ve gone to, but I can’t stay long. And until I begin to remember things, I don’t know if I can repay you.”
Annalise sat cross-legged on the rug and began removing price tags. “Don’t be silly,” she said happily. “Gareth is paying for all of this. It’s the least he can do after you hurt yourself so badly.”
An arrested look came over her face and she hopped back to her feet. “Speaking of which, Jacob wanted me to take a look at your head. He’s only a phone call away if we need him.”
Before Gracie could move or protest, Annalise was sifting through Gracie’s
