Part 11 (2/2)

He turned at the sound of footsteps behind him. Holly appeared in the kitchen doorway, her wild mane of dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, her face looking freshly washed and s.h.i.+ny clean sans any makeup.

He felt as if struck by lightning. For just a moment he let himself hope- But when his gaze locked with hers, he could see that there was still no recognition of what had been between them. No memory.

He tried to hide his disappointment. ”Dinner's almost ready,” he said brightly. ”I hope you're hungry.”

She nodded, looking uncomfortable. ”I heard the phone.”

He tried to think of a way to tell her without just blurting it out. ”The hospital called. One of the nurses decided to check the blood typing for us.”

She paled, one hand reaching out to grip the counter top.

”The baby wasn't yours.”

Her face relaxed in a swell of relief, her eyes filling. ”I was right.”

He nodded, desperately wanting to hold her and comfort her in some way. While it was a relief to know that the stillborn baby hadn't been theirs, it was almost more frightening not to know what had happened to their baby.

”Our baby is alive,” she whispered. He prayed she was right. ”Dr. Parris will help me get my memory back. I know at least one of the monsters. Once we find him...”

Or Carolyn, Slade thought. If If Dr. Parris could get Holly's memory back. Dr. Parris could get Holly's memory back. If If they could find the monsters. they could find the monsters. If If the monsters knew what happened to the baby. Way too many ifs, Slade thought miserably. the monsters knew what happened to the baby. Way too many ifs, Slade thought miserably.

The timer went off on the microwave. ”Let's try to eat something now and not talk about it.” He knew she probably wasn't any more hungry than he was, but they both had to eat. He turned to pull the ca.s.serole out, burning his fingers. Grabbing up two potholders, he took the ca.s.serole to the table.

She didn't argue. ”I like your sister's house,” she said, as if trying to make conversation, as she wandered around Sh.e.l.ley's kitchen. ”Where do you live?”

”In an apartment next to my office. It's pretty basic.” The truth was he wasn't much of a nester. He liked his spa.r.s.ely furnished apartment just fine, no matter what Chief Curtis had said. Or Sh.e.l.ley. ”I think you have a fear of domesticity,” the chief had said the first time he'd seen the place. ”Either that or no taste.”

”It's fear of commitment,” Sh.e.l.ley had said.

”I happen to like simplicity,” Slade had argued. ”If I want homey, I can always go to Sh.e.l.ley's.”

Curtis and Sh.e.l.ley had looked at each other knowingly. ”It's fear,” they'd both said in unison.

Holly leaned against the breakfast counter. ”Where did we...”

”Make love? Here. At my place. And a variety of other places-in and outdoors.”

Holly seemed shocked by that information. ”Outdoors this time of the year?”

”You didn't know you had it in you?” Obviously not.

She blushed and looked away, and he could have bitten his tongue.

”I just can't imagine-”

But he'd seen the answer in her eyes. She had had imagined. Imagined the two of them. imagined. Imagined the two of them.

She turned away as if to inspect Sh.e.l.ley's cookie-cutter collection on the kitchen wall. His mother and sister had been collectors. Maybe that's why Slade didn't collect. At least not ”things.”

Her hair was still wet from a shower. As he moved back into the kitchen, he picked up the scent of her. She smelled like spring, fresh and new as the first bright blades of green gra.s.s. He felt starved for-an end to the winter that had only just begun-and her.

As she started to step past him toward the table, he caught her arm. She stopped, motionless. He turned her slowly to him, her blue eyes as clear and deep as a mountain lake.

She wore jeans and a T-s.h.i.+rt. Both accentuated a full, rounded body he knew intimately.

The kiss was inevitable. He needed her in his arms, needed to hold her and feel her warmth, needed that rea.s.surance that they would somehow get through this. Together. No matter what happened. He needed that more than his next breath.

He lost himself in her eyes, in all that blue as if untethered from earth and suddenly airborne. Her lips parted, the tiniest of sighs escaping.

His mouth lowered slowly, achingly to hers. A light brush. Their eyes locked as his lips again hovered over hers.

Her breath quickened, her heart answering the feverish beat of his own as he pulled her closer. He grazed her mouth again, heard her intake of breath, then her lips parted, opening to him. He dropped his mouth over hers, losing himself in the familiar touch and taste of her, finding in her the sanctuary he so desperately needed right now.

But he knew the kiss was more than finding sanctuary. It could possibly bring him back the woman he loved.

He was startled when she suddenly pulled away, her palms on his chest as she pushed back from him.

He looked down at her in surprise. Her face flamed and she lowered her lashes as if embarra.s.sed. He cursed himself, backing up against the kitchen counter. She looked shaken, her cheeks flushed, her hands trembling.

”I'm sorry,” he said, silently cursing himself again. ”I told myself I wouldn't do that.”

She shook her head, biting at her lower lip.

”You don't remember me, let alone us,” he said in a rush. ”You hired me to find out about the baby, not-” He slashed the air with his hand. ”I'm sorry.”

”It wasn't your fault. I wanted-” She looked away. ”I was hoping the kiss would make me remember-”

Obviously it hadn't. ”I guess I was hoping that, too.” Hoping they could find comfort in each other's arms. He wouldn't admit it to her, but he was afraid, afraid that no matter what they did it would be too late for their baby.

”We should eat,” he said.

She nodded and he moved aside to let her go to the table.

They ate, picking at their food, trying to make small talk, the kiss between them.

”You didn't mention that Dr. Allan Wellington started Evergreen Inst.i.tute.”

She looked up from her plate. ”I just a.s.sumed you knew. Is it a problem?”

He shook his head. Dr. Allan Wellington was a thorn in his side that just kept needling at him.

She insisted on helping clean up the dishes. He caught her yawning and could see how drained she was.

”Go on up to bed. I can finish this.”

She glanced toward the stairs.

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