Stranger In His Bed

She felt no hesitation... She was his.

“I’m your husband.”

Victoria Masters remembers nothing after the accident that stole her past, not even her name. Now she’s living in a billionaire rancher’s palatial home and finding this sensual stranger impossible to resist. He says he’s her husband, but why does she get the sense he’s holding back? As powerful desire leads her into Wade’s bed, a surprise she’ll never forget is in store...

When LAUREN CANAN began writing, stories of romance and unbridled passion flowed through her fingers onto the page. Today she is a multi-award-winning author, including the prestigious Romance Writers of America Golden Heart® Award. She lives in Texas with her own real-life hero, two crazy dogs and a mouthy parrot named Bird. Find her on Facebook or visit her website, laurencanan.com.

Also by Lauren Canan

Terms of a Texas Marriage

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Redeeming the Billionaire SEAL

One Night with the Texan

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Stranger in His Bed

Lauren Canan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07674-6

STRANGER IN HIS BED

© 2018 Sarah Cannon

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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This book is dedicated to Terry:

the one who keeps me going. I couldn’t write

without your inspiration and encouragement.

And to Kathy Douglass,

the best critique partner you could ever hope for.

Thank you for all you’ve done for me!

And many thanks to my editor,

Charles Griemsman. Bless you for your brilliant

guidance and for having the patience of a saint.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

One

“I think she’s awake.”

As her vision cleared, the most beautiful pair of eyes she’d ever seen came into focus. They were a vibrant brown with so many flecks of gold they appeared to gleam. Framed by dark lashes, they were strong, compelling, and she couldn’t look away. She didn’t want to look away. It was as though they offered a lifeline and she desperately held on.

Her gaze widened to take in the rest of this man’s face. The sharp angles and high cheekbones. The full, sensuous lips, drawn into a straight line, surrounded by a dark bearded shadow. His thick, tobacco-brown hair gleamed golden where the fluorescent lights touched it.

A second man in a white lab coat stepped into her field of vision on the opposite side of the bed.

“I’m Dr. Meadows, your neurologist.” He spoke softly, clearly. Something she was grateful for.

The glaring white lights overhead burned with the same intensity as the sun. The pounding in her head became more pronounced, almost overwhelming, throbbing in time with her heartbeat.

“You were involved in an automobile accident two days ago. You had some injuries. Most were minor, but you did sustain a fairly bad concussion.”

The doctor withdrew a pencil-sized flashlight from the pocket of his lab coat and pointed the light quickly into one eye, then the other. She couldn’t help flinching as the beam touched her eyes. He returned the light to his pocket and flipped open a chart. After sifting through an array of pastel-colored pages, he made a notation on one of them before closing the folder.

“Can you tell me your name?”

“I’m... My name is...” She drew a blank. How can I not know my own name? How is it possible? Confusion added to her pain. “I don’t know,” she whispered almost to herself. A feeling of panic slowly crept in.

“Do you know who that man is?” The doctor nodded toward the stranger.

Once again she took in his features, the solemn face that was so full of character, the deep jaw and those eyes, so mesmerizing. But nothing about him was at all familiar.

“No.” She slowly rolled her head against the pillow. “Should I?”

“I’m Wade,” the man said, his deep voice conveying strength. “Wade Masters. I’m your husband.”

Husband? She was married? The stunned disbelief must have shown in her eyes, because Wade Masters’s expression turned into a frown of serious contemplation, and his eyes snapped across to the doctor. No. That couldn’t be right. Could it? She raised a hand to her forehead. Frantically she searched her mind for any memory of a wedding. Of him. Of them. Of their life together.

Nothing.

“I don’t know you.” She heard the emotional quiver in her own voice. “I’m not married. How can you say that?”

Alarm set in, adding to the pounding in her head. This was all wrong. They had the wrong person. They thought she was someone else. She had to get up. She had to leave. She had to go home. Grabbing the railing at the side of the bed, she tried to pull herself into a sitting position. Hands immediately pushed her gently back down onto the pillow. “No. Please. I need to go home. I need to call...” Who? Who was she going to call? She couldn’t think. Her head hurt. Everything hurt, and she had no memory of the person she was or the life she had known.

She heard the doctor call for a nurse. “Try to relax, Mrs. Masters,” he said. “You’re going to be fine. Your home is waiting when you regain your strength. You took a pretty hard knock on the head. Try not to worry if you can’t remember people or names, including your own. With this type of injury, retrograde amnesia is not at all uncommon. I’m confident everything will come back to you in time.”

“When?” She felt a tear slip down the side of her face. “When will it come back?”

“Unfortunately, we have no way of knowing how any one individual will react. Occasionally a memory may come to you as a kind of flashback. Then you may start to remember everything all at once, or it may come back in small fragments, like random pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. It could return tomorrow or months from now.”

Months? No. She had to remember. There was something important she had to do. People were counting on her. She sensed a need to hurry. But the more she tried to recall the circumstances, the harder the hammer slammed into her head.

“Your tests have come back and everything is looking very good.” The neurologist continued flipping through forms in her chart. “The cerebral swelling is all but gone. Your heart sounds good. Blood pressure is within a normal range. If no other concerns surface, we can talk about sending you home tomorrow.” He looked from the chart directly to her.

A nurse bustled in. She injected medication into the intravenous tubing. “This should take effect in just a few minutes. I’ll be back to check on you, sweetie.” She nodded at the two men and left the room as quickly as she’d come in.

As I mentioned to your husband,” the doctor said, “there is a good chance being in familiar surroundings will stimulate the return of your memory.”

Her husband. She returned her gaze to the tall man with broad shoulders who stood to her left, watching her in silent consideration. He was dressed in a dark business suit, his blue-and-gold-striped tie loosened at the neck, the top button of his white dress shirt undone. Her gaze fell on his hands, which were resting on the metal bar of the bed. They looked strong and capable. A gold wedding band gleamed on the third finger of his left hand.

She swallowed back the fear that something was terribly wrong.

“We will get through this. You’re going to be okay.” The man leaned down, bringing his face closer to hers. His hand covered her own, and the warmth felt good. His voice was as deep and seductive as his eyes were mesmerizing. “If there is anything you need...”

“Please tell me who I am.”

“Your name is Victoria. Victoria Masters.”

The man stood up straight, appearing relaxed and self-assured, and slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers. She realized her initial impression that he was attractive had been an understatement.

He was devastatingly attractive.

She could smell his rich, enticing cologne. His white shirt set off his tan skin. The sharp lines of his face and the straight, proud nose were indicative of good breeding. His hair with its slight wave hung just past his collar and shadowed his forehead. The golden intensity of his eyes and the lack of a smile on those full, sensuous lips brought it all together: Wade Masters was the personification of danger. Not dangerous like a criminal, but dangerous like a man who was capable of stirring a woman’s passion with little to no effort. And he knew it. It was part of that confidence he emitted.

And he was here to take her home.

With his gaze trained on her, she felt a heated blush rush up her neck and over her face. The barest hint of a smile touched his lips as though he knew what she was thinking. She looked away, swallowing hard.

The doctor interrupted her thoughts. “Right now, I don’t want you to worry about memory recall. Try to relax and give it some time.”

She felt the drug the nurse had given start to take effect and her eyelids grew heavy. She fought to keep them open, wanting to know more about the man who claimed to be her husband.

Dr. Meadows turned toward him. “I want to see her in two weeks. Have someone contact my office and set up an appointment. If she develops any dizziness, vomiting or severe headaches, bring her back to the ER immediately.” He looked at his patient. “Bed rest for a day, then you can move around, but go slowly. No hundred-meter hurdles for at least a week.” He winked at her, then smiled.

“Okay.” She couldn’t help but return his smile.

“You folks have a good day.” He handed Wade his card. “If you should have any questions, don’t hesitate to call.”

“Thank you, Dr. Meadows,” she said as the good doctor disappeared out the door and down the hall. Her gaze returned to the other man. She felt a wave of anxiety shimmy down her spine. She was alone with this person, this man who claimed to be her husband. She still didn’t recognize anything about him. There was nothing in his voice or the way he moved that was remotely familiar. For all his sex appeal, he seemed cold, unfeeling. Would she have married a man like that? Apparently so. Surely there was something about him or about their situation that would register?

There were so many questions she wanted to ask. She felt as though she was standing on the edge of a precipice, about to plunge down into the dark depths of the unknown. Could she do this? Evidently there was only one way to find out.

He had not made any other move to touch her. No hug. No kiss—even on the cheek. In fact, she’d received more compassion from the doctor and nurse than from the man who said he was her husband. Maybe he was just holding back because he knew she had no recollection of him? If that was the case, she appreciated his thoughtfulness. If not, they obviously had a major problem within their marriage and one she could do nothing about until her memory returned. She hoped, yet again, that would happen soon. In the meantime, she had to speculate about what would be asked of her. What would her husband expect?

The pain in her head and body began to fade, and before she could ask another question, she returned to the comfort of oblivion.

* * *

Wade Masters stood motionless as he watched Victoria fall back to sleep. She’d been monitored closely for the swelling in her brain and tested often to ensure no veins in her head ruptured from the building pressure. Today, when he’d received the call that she seemed to be regaining consciousness, he’d come to the hospital immediately. This, after having to cut short a business trip to London when he’d first heard of the accident.

He hadn’t been prepared for the news of her amnesia. Or the fear he’d seen in her eyes, the way her gaze had held his as though his strength was the only thing holding her together. She’d looked at him with desperation and a silent cry for help, and he’d not been able to stop himself from wanting to make everything better. It had to be tough to wake up in a hospital and not remember your own name or what happened to put you there.

He was equally surprised the snobbishness she normally wore like a shield was gone. She tended to walk a fine line between arrogant and outright rude. But instead of demanding answers from the doctor, she’d asked questions with true concern and a hint of anguish in her voice. Still, she might not have the strength to be demanding. Perhaps it was all the pain and medication. Whatever the cause, something had changed. It was more than the cracked ribs and head injury. He had come here anticipating the worst, expecting he would have to deal with her demanding behavior. Instead, he encountered a woman who was frightened and wasn’t afraid to let that anxiety show.

And the way she appeared now, without a half ton of makeup covering her face and her hair in disarray, she looked amenable and, in a strange way, actually more attractive than usual. Despite the bruising from the accident, she was a very beautiful woman.

But she was fastidious about the way she looked. The hospital staff had better keep any mirrors well away from her until she healed or be prepared to bear her wrath and interminable temper. They all had better relish this peaceful time. The true Victoria would be back soon enough.

It was too bad, because she had so much to offer. If only she would get a grip, stop being so superficial and entitled, and set goals for her future.

With one last glance at the woman sleeping in the bed, he grabbed his briefcase from the chair and walked out into the corridor. As he approached the row of elevators, his mind was spinning. He had to get a handle on how to deal with this. Maybe Dave Renner, his attorney, could shed some light on what the hell he should do now. The documents to end this sham marriage had been prepared and were awaiting Victoria’s signature. They had both agreed to a settlement offer. In a matter of days he would have been free of her and all the baggage that came with her, including the outrageously snooty and often flamboyant behavior.

He would have been free of this woman who was his wife in name only.

His jaw clenched in frustration. He knew there was no easy answer. In fact, there was only one answer. Take her home when she was released and care for her until she completely recovered. He shook his head at the unbelievable twist of fate.

Wade was glad Victoria would eventually be okay. He certainly wished her no ill will. He’d had his secretary clear his calendar for the next few weeks so he could remain close until she was better. Anything she needed would be provided. But he couldn’t help but speculate if she would keep the amnesia thing going even if her memory returned. Her ability to maintain a lie was one of her best attributes. It was why he’d chosen her.

He pressed the elevator call button, still grinding his teeth. Their arrangement had been intended to benefit them both, giving her a much-sought entry into Dallas’s inner circles and providing him with the facade of being a settled family man, which worked to his advantage in business negotiations. It had also been intended to eliminate unwanted emotions and potential complications found in a real marriage, something he had neither the time nor the patience to deal with. Those complications had been replaced by new ones, but at least it had provided him the freedom to come and go as he deemed necessary, and of late go seemed the option that worked best. The less time he spent in her company, the better.

Eight months after signing the agreement that bound him to her as her husband, she’d begun to be seen with various men out in public, often making the gossip columns, effectively negating the very purpose for which he’d needed her, causing all the carefully staged efforts to blow up in his face. After she’d ignored repeated requests for discretion, her actions had continued, albeit on a lesser scale, but enough that he was still not happy, especially when it had begun to negatively affect his business dealings and made him appear the fool, which he would not permit. Victoria had scoffed and asked him if he really expected her to live like a nun. He’d assured her that was not his intention. What he did demand was discretion. He’d reminded her of her desire for social esteem and warned she was about to lose all she’d set out to achieve. She’d ignored him, deciding to call his bluff. Other measures had to be taken. He had thought she was intelligent enough to know he would not allow this to go on, and she had pushed him as far as he would tolerate. The bottom line: she was an employee paid to act the part of his wife, and had been compensated very well for that effort. In addition, if she had lived up to the terms, she would have received a million-dollar settlement at the end of a year. Now less than a week away from being free of her, she’d had this accident.

He drew in a breath and blew it out as the doors to the elevator opened. He was stuck with an impetuous, ill-tempered wife in name only, who would most likely milk this amnesia thing for all it was worth. He fought to control his temper.

He needed to call his brothers Cole and Chance, who resided in Calico Springs on the Masters family compound. He hadn’t spoken to either of them since his flight had landed. He supposed he should call Victoria’s mother, too, to tell her she’d be out of the hospital soon. But all Corrine was really worried about was herself and ensuring her rank at the top of the social food chain lasted a while longer. And really, wasn’t that all that mattered? He scoffed at the woman’s preposterous behavior. If one of his brothers had been injured, he would not have stayed home and requested a daily update. He would be there at the hospital, not waiting for a phone call. His brothers would do the same. They showed up for each other. He almost felt sorry for Victoria. After being raised by that woman, it was no wonder she acted the way she did.

Bracing himself, he speed-dialed Corinne’s number and headed for the side entrance door of the hospital, where his car and driver waited.

Two

As the doctor had promised, a nurse arrived at her room with a wheelchair the next afternoon. Victoria had requested that the flowers she’d received be given to other patients who might not have family. She didn’t recognize the names on any of the cards anyway. Her clothing had been discarded when she had been first brought into the ER. Her husband had arranged for some loungewear to be delivered.

They headed toward the front entrance, the nurse pushing the wheelchair, Wade following. As they cleared the automatic glass doors to the outside, she embraced the warm afternoon air and the sounds of normal life all around her. It was summer, the trees were green and plants in full bloom, the colors so bold it was hard to take it all in.

What had she been doing before the accident? Where had she been going when she was hit? She turned her gaze from the flowers to focus on where they were headed now. Directly in front of her was a champagne-colored stretch limo waiting in the circular drive.

“Oh, my gosh,” she uttered in complete surprise when two men stepped out. A driver and a bodyguard? One came around the car to open the rear passenger door for her. She looked up at her husband. “Is this yours?”

“It is.”

“Seriously? I don’t think I’ve ever been in a limo before. Maybe at a funeral...”

Wade smiled. “Actually, you have ridden in a limousine many times, but, since you don’t remember, let’s hope you enjoy this ride like it’s your first. And we will certainly steer clear of any cemeteries.”

He placed his hand under her arm and gently helped her stand and take three steps to the limo. Once inside, she leaned back against the rich leather seat and inhaled the new-car scent. Closing the door, Wade walked to the other side and got in next to her. Seconds later, they were off.

The scent of his cologne, distinctly masculine with hints of spices and sandalwood, blended with the rich smell of the leather upholstery. It was a heady aroma.

“Do you need the temperature adjusted?” he asked. “Are you comfortable?”

“I’m fine. It feels strange to be outside again. Good. But strange.”

He nodded as though he understood.

“We’re near Dallas, aren’t we?”

“Yes. You remember Dallas?”

She pointed at the window to his left. “I recognize the skyline.”