see you remember that part just fine,” he said dryly. “You could have taken my head off.”
“Oh my God.” Raising her bandaged hand, she pressed it to her mouth. “I wouldn’t have…hurt you.”
“You sure had me fooled. That .38 you were packing looked pretty deadly.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Whose gun was it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why did you have it?”
“I…don’t…remember.”
John studied her, annoyed with her because he couldn’t tell if she was lying, annoyed with himself because all he seemed to be noticing about her was the way that sexless hospital gown fell over curves that were anything but sexless. Curves he had absolutely no business noticing as a medical professional, even less as a man with his history. If he had an ounce of common sense, he’d get the hell out of there. But John knew his interest in her had moved beyond logic and into an area that was as foreign to him as the phenomenon of amnesia.
“Am I in trouble?” she asked. “I mean, with the police?”
Lowering his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “If my team leader had his way, you’d be on your way to a jail cell right now.”
A shiver rippled the length of her. “Why aren’t I?”
“Hopefully it’s not because I’m a fool.” John couldn’t tell her the truth, of course. He couldn’t tell her that even after they’d dropped her off at the hospital, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. That he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the way he’d responded when her body had been pressed against his and all that red hair had spread over his chest like an ocean of fragrant silk. For hours afterward, her scent had clung to him, as sweet and tantalizing as a first kiss.
Shoving the memory aside, he blew out a sigh. “Buzz filed a police report but he didn’t mention the gun.” He shot her a hard look. “I convinced him not to.”
John saw the question in her eyes. She wanted to know why they’d covered for her, but she didn’t voice it. He found himself relieved because he wasn’t sure he had an answer.
“You don’t think I’m some kind of…criminal, do you?” she asked.
“I think you’ve got some explaining to do.”
“I’m not sure how I can explain something I don’t remember.”
“That’s why we’re going to give the sheriff’s office a call.”
The color leached from her cheeks so quickly, he thought she would faint. “No police,” she whispered.
Suspicion fluttered like a big, gangly bird in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t wanted to believe it, but she was obviously hiding something. Disappointed, he scrubbed a hand over his jaw. Terrific. His instincts were telling him one thing, his gut another—and the part of him that was a man didn’t necessarily give a damn about either.
“Why not?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I just…need some time to sort things out first. Please.”
John sighed again. He wasn’t sure how he was going to handle this. He wasn’t sure how he was going to handle her. Or what he was going to do about the way he was reacting to her.
“What else do you remember?” he pressed.
“Not much more than I’ve already told you. I remember running. Being…terrified. I remember…cold and snow. It was dark, and I couldn’t see…” Her gaze dropped to her bandaged hands. When she held them out, they trembled. “How is it that I can’t remember, yet I’m terrified? I don’t even know what I’m afraid of. I don’t even know my own name, for God’s sake. This is nuts.”
“The name thing bothers you a lot, doesn’t it?”
A humorless laugh escaped her. “I know this sounds strange, but not knowing my own name, not knowing who I am makes me feel like…I never existed.”
“What about the name on the note?”
“Hannah? What about it?”
“I like it a hell of a lot better than Jane Doe.”
“Hannah.” A tentative smile touched the corners of her mouth. “Yeah, I like it. I mean, temporarily.”
“Even if it’s not your name, chances are it was at least familiar to you.”
“Maybe if I hear it often enough, it will shake loose a memory and help me remember.”
“There you go.”
Something went liquid and warm in John’s chest at her smile. It was an unfamiliar sensation he normally would have shied away from, but didn’t this time. As long as he stayed in control of the situation, he’d be all right, he assured himself. If the balance shifted, he’d know when to walk away. John had a sixth sense when it came to knowing when to walk away. It had never failed him; it wouldn’t now.
But the knowledge gave him little solace, considering those incredible eyes of hers knocked him for a loop every time he looked at her.
“I know this must sound crazy, but I can’t shake the feeling that I was in trouble up on that mountain,” she said. “I’m not wrong about this. Someone was trying to…hurt me.”
He didn’t like the sound of that. Not about her memory loss. He sure as hell didn’t like the possibility that someone might have been trying to hurt her. But it would explain the gun. And the bruises on her arms and throat. The rest of her body had been so battered in the fall, they hadn’t been able to tell if the other bruises were suspicious or not.
John tried to stomp the outrage that rolled slowly through him at the thought of a man hurting her. Nothing gave a man the right to hurt a woman. He knew all too well the devastation that kind of violence wreaked on someone’s life. He’d walked away from it thirteen years ago, only to realize a man couldn’t ever outrun his roots.
So why the hell was he sitting here trying to help her remember when he had absolutely no intention of getting involved?
As if reading his thoughts, her gaze sharpened on his. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
John gazed back at her, telling himself it wasn’t his responsibility to tell her about the bruises—or the very real possibility that someone had, indeed, tried to hurt her.
“I’ll go see what’s keeping the doc,” he said, rising.
“Look, whatever it is you’re not telling me, I can handle it. It’s not like I’m going to fall apart or something. I deserve to know what happened to me.”
The edge in her voice stopped him. Trying not to look at the bruises on her throat, trying not to let his outrage show, he met her gaze levelly. “You’ve got some suspicious bruising.”
“What
