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Thoughts of her son brought a genuine smile to Brianna’s lips. “Thank you, Doctor.”
The neurologist pulled a pen from his pocket and signed a chart that he stuck in the file holder on her door. “Now get some rest, and I’ll check in on you again at the end of my rounds.”
The doctor pulled her door almost closed to give her and Hunter privacy, and being alone with her rescuer suddenly became awkward. She glanced at him as he shifted to a more comfortable position in the bedside chair. He flicked a smile at her and drew a deep breath.
“So...” he said.
“Hunter...” she said at the same time.
His grin stretched, and he waved a hand toward her. “Go on.”
“What were you—” she said on top of him again. Now she chuckled stiffly. “Sorry.”
He shook his head. “No. Ladies first.”
She took a slow breath and untangled her fingers from the knots she’d been winding in the sheets. “You don’t have to stay. I know I asked you not to leave before, but...I was scared and hurting and—”
His warm hand wrapped around her cool fingers, and her gaze darted up to his. His dark blue eyes were full of compassion and crinkled slightly as he grinned. “I’m not going anywhere. I made you a promise, and I intend to keep it.”
She squeezed his fingers, relishing the connection to him. Not only did his warm grip feel good around her chilly hands, but his loyalty and friendship touched a place deep inside her that she had an odd sense had been empty and cold for a long time. “I release you from that promise. I have no right to hold you here. You don’t know me. You have no responsibility for me. You’ve already done so much, and I’ll always be grateful. But I don’t want you to feel obligated to me.”
He gave her a dismissive raspberry. “I’m your husband, remember? Of course I’ll stay.”
Brianna sighed and shook her head. “We both know you’re not. That’s just the lie you told the EMT so you could ride with me when I was panicking.”
His brow furrowed, and when he stroked her knuckles with his thumb, a pleasant tingle spun through her. “Yeah, well...maybe I’m getting into the role. Maybe I want to hang around for a while to make sure you’re okay.” He cocked his head. “Would that be okay? I could help you start figuring out who you are and if you have family somewhere that should be called.”
Her heart pattered. She wanted desperately to accept his offer, but how could she impose on his kindness that way? “You heard the doctor. It could be weeks before I remember everything.” She frowned and dropped her gaze to her lap. “If I remember.”
He untangled his fingers from hers and nudged her chin up. “Hey, stay positive.” His palm cupped her cheek, and she couldn’t help but lean into his touch, his buoying comfort and encouragement. “I was thinking I might do a little investigative work. I can go back to your car and see what, if anything, I can find that would help us solve some of the mystery surrounding you.”
She raised her chin, hope lifting her spirits. “Good idea.”
“For starters, I’ll take down your license-plate number and see if the DMV will tell me who the number is registered to.”
She nodded, feeling a surge of energy in light of Hunter’s idea and optimism. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?”
He shot her a wickedly handsome lopsided grin. “You were a little preoccupied having the world’s cutest little boy.”
A knock on the door heralded the arrival of a nurse rolling a bassinet in from the nursery. “Mrs. Mansfield?”
She blinked, confused by the name until Hunter winked at her and said, “Speak of the devil. Here’s our boy now.”
Mansfield. Hunter Mansfield. She let the name roll through her mind, testing it, savoring it. Funny to think she knew more about Hunter than she did about herself. A last name, for instance.
The nurse parked the bassinet beside her bed and scooped up the baby, swaddled tightly in a blue blanket. “Here you go, Mama. He’s been asking for you. I think he’s ready to nurse.”
Brianna’s breath caught, and her gaze darted to Hunter. Nurse? “Um...I—”
Hunter’s cheeks flushed a bit, and he met her uneasy glance with his own.
“It helps if you massage the breast first to increase the milk flow,” the nurse said as she settled the baby in Brianna’s arms.
Hunter shot out of his chair and hustled toward the door. “Honey, I just remembered a phone call I need to make. I’ll just be out here in the hall, okay?”
She released the breath she’d been holding and nodded. “Sure.”
As Hunter slipped out of the room, the nurse helped Brianna get situated, propping pillows under the baby and her arm so that she could hold her son more comfortably. The baby latched on after a few tries and suckled greedily. Brianna stared down at the tiny face, marveling at the miracle she held and swamped by a love so strong and pure it brought tears to her eyes. Of course, some of the tears could be the product of the crazy cocktail of hormones, her frustration with her amnesia and the throbbing pain in her skull.
“That’s the way. You’ve got it,” her nurse said. “I’m going to go, but if you need me, just push the button on that cord there.” She pointed to the nurse call. “Or get that nervous daddy in the hall to help.” She sent a wry look to the door. “He’s got to get over those new-father nerves before you go home. You’re gonna need a lot of help with the baby while you recover from that concussion.”
Brianna swallowed hard. “Right. Thanks.”
She might need a lot of help, but she couldn’t ask Hunter. Surely she had family or a friend, a neighbor...someone who could help her with the baby. The baby gazed up at her with his blue eyes as he nursed, and she was washed anew with overwhelming awe and love. Maybe it wasn’t hormones. Maybe this was the deep maternal bond that women had known for centuries. “Oh, sweetie, you are so precious to me. We’re going to be okay. I promise.”
Her son’s eyes closed, then fluttered open again.
“It’s okay. You can sleep. I’ll be right here.” Her reassurance to her baby boy reminded her of Hunter’s pledge to stay with her, to work with her to piece together her identity and lost memories. As she watched her baby suckle, an overwhelming need to name her son roared through her. She might have no identity, no past to draw from, but she could give her son a name. A name with meaning and significance.
“Hunter?” she called. “Hunter, are you there?”
He burst through the door, his expression worried. “I’m here. What’s wrong?”
“What’s your full name?”
He blinked. “Huh?”
“Your full name? Do you have a middle name?”
His attention shifted to where her baby still nuzzled her breast, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Um...”
Oops. Heat prickling her cheeks, she tugged the receiving blanket up to cover the baby’s head.
He scratched the stubble on his chin, his brow puckering in thought as if trying to remember what she’d asked. “Oh, uh...Benjamin. Why?”
“Hunter Benjamin Mansfield,” she said, liking the sound of it. “A strong, noble-sounding name.”
He shrugged. “If you say so.”
She smiled. “I do. Would you mind if I named my son Benjamin...after you?”
Shock froze his features for a moment before his mouth twitched in a lopsided grin and his eyes lit with wonder. “Seriously?”
“He needs a name. I may not be able to fill out all the blanks on his birth certificate yet, but I can give him a first name. Seems fitting, you being the man who came to our rescue.” She paused. “If that’s all right with you.”
He chuckled and swiped a hand over his face. “I’m...honored! Yeah.”
She smiled and peeked under the blanket at her son. “Then Benjamin it is.”
Naming her baby was a small thing in the big picture, but at least one thing in her blank-slate life had been settled. A disproportionately large swell of relief filled her.
“Was that it? You need anything?” Hunter asked.
Fatigue pulled at her, weighting her limbs. “A nap. But first this guy—” she tipped her head toward the baby “—needs to fall asleep.”
He sent her a commiserative nod. “Yeah, you’ve had a busy day.” Sliding his hands down his backside, as if searching for back pockets that the running shorts he wore didn’t have, Hunter edged back toward the door. “Well, then...I’ll let you finish feeding him. In fact, I’m thinking I’ll go scare up a sandwich or something. You sure you don’t want a snack or a soda?”
“No thanks. Just sleep.” As if hearing her request, her son’s eyes—Benjamin’s eyes—closed groggily, and she stroked a finger along his silky-soft cheek. “That’s a good boy. Sweet dreams, Ben.” She raised her head. “Could you help me move him to the bassinet?”
Tugging the bedsheet up, she kept herself covered as she held Ben out from her body enough for Hunter to slide his hands under the blue bundle. When he splayed his fingers, Hunter’s hands were large enough to ably cradle her son’s head and bottom securely. The sight of those masculine hands against the soft blanket that swaddled her child sent a ripple of awareness through her. Those same strong hands had held hers with gentle warmth, had comforted her with tender care...and had pulled open the crumpled door of her wrecked car with brute power. How would those amazing hands feel caressing her skin? Exploring her body? Her pulse kicked, and her mouth dried.
What was she doing letting her thoughts stray down that path just hours after childbirth? Sure, Hunter was drop-dead handsome and kind to a fault, but talk about bad timing! She didn’t even know if she had someone at home waiting for her, worrying about where she was. And because Hunter had told the hospital she was his wife, if someone did call looking for her, they wouldn’t know she was here, even as a Jane Doe.
“Hunter? What if my family is looking for me? The hospital thinks my last name is Mansfield.”
He cut a side glance to her from the bassinet, where he watched Ben settling in to sleep. “Huh, I hadn’t thought about that.” He frowned and rubbed his chin. “But before we backpedal on that story, we need to consider all the angles of this.”
Under the sheet, she adjusted her clothes, post-nursing, and snuggled down on the bed, completely wiped-out by the delivery. “What angles?”
“Well, like your safety.”
She lowered her eyebrows, a niggling sense biting the back of her neck. “My safety?”
“You don’t remember? When I first got to your car, you were sure someone was trying to hurt you.” He moved to the chair by her bed and sat on the edge, leaning toward her with an anxious look on his face. He knew something he wasn’t telling her. “Are you sure you don’t remember anything from right before the accident? Why were you racing down that road so fast?”
“I was in labor. I—” She stopped, knowing somehow there was more to it. She sank back against her pillow, shut her eyes. Behind closed eyes images and sounds of the day’s trauma replayed in her head. Lying in the overturned car. The blinding pain in her head. The blood. The ambulance sirens. She took a deep breath and tried to push the swirl of confusion over the accident and tangled feelings toward Hunter out of her mind. The nagging sense of disquiet sorted itself out from the other memories. A fear that stole through her like a wraith, chilling her to the bone. Someone had wanted to hurt her. She was sure of it.
Brianna’s eyes flew open, and she gasped. Her gaze darted around the hospital room as if expecting to find someone standing over her, ready to snuff the life from her.
Hunter scooted the chair closer, took her hand. “What? What do you remember?”
“Nothing...specific. Just this ominous, oppressive feeling of danger. I can’t explain it, but...”
“I think I can.” Hunter’s expression darkened, and his gaze dropped to the floor, his forehead lined with deep furrows of concern.
Brianna’s gut flinched, rebelled. A sour taste filled her mouth. “What?”
“When we were leaving the accident scene, I got a good look at the back of your car.” He met her eyes, and the intensity in his blue gaze rocked her to her core. “Someone had shot at the back of your car. Maybe not today, but at some point. That’s one of the reasons I want to go back out and look at the car before the police impound it. I’m sure the officer who responded to the accident would have seen the bullet holes and will be investigating, but I want to know all I can. So I can protect you.”
She tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry. “Are...are you sure they were bullet holes? Maybe a rock—”
“I’m sure.” He sandwiched her hand between hers and stroked her wrist with his thumb. “I served a few years in the Army Reserves and have hunted with my brothers for years. I know guns, and I know bullet holes. The ones in your car looked to be in the .38-to .44-caliber range. The kind of weapon that has stopping power.”
Her breath shuddered from her, and she stared at Hunter, stunned by what she was hearing.
His hand caressed her cheek, cupped her face. “Brianna, I’m sorry to dump this on you. I don’t mean to scare you with this, but I thought you needed to know. So you could take precautions. Be alert to possible threats.”
“But...why...? I don’t...” She wet her lips and tried to slow her racing thoughts. “They weren’t just trying to hurt me, then. Whoever shot at the car was trying to...” She gulped. “To kill me?”
Apprehension dented his brow. “That’s how it looks to me.”
Her bottom lip trembled, and she caught it with her teeth. Nausea roiled in her belly, and her aching head pounded with fresh ferocity.
His grip on her cheek tightened, and he tipped her face toward him. “But listen to me, Brianna. I’m not going to let that happen. I’m going to help you get to the bottom of this. We’ll figure out who was trying to hurt you and why. We’ll find something to tell us who you are and where your family is. I promise. I won’t let anyone harm you or Ben.”
Tears prickled her eyes. She had too much to process. An attempt on her life, the car accident, her lost memory. In the midst of so much turmoil, Hunter was a beacon to her. A safe harbor. She might not know him, but her instincts told her to trust him. Gratitude was an understatement of how she welcomed and cherished his offer of help and protection. Without her memory, with her body weakened from injury and a painful delivery, with a new baby to consider, she was vulnerable with a capital V.
She covered his hand with hers, and when she blinked, a tear tracked down her cheek. “Thank you, Hunter. So much.”
Hunter’s phone buzzed, and he checked the screen. “That’s my dad. My ride is here, so I need to go.” He leaned close and kissed her forehead. The chaste kiss sent ribbons of honeyed warmth through her. “I hate to leave you, but I feel like there are answers we need at your car. I need to get out there before the police haul it away.”
A shiver raced over her skin at the thought of being left alone. But Hunter was right. They needed answers, and her car was the place to start. The only clue they had. “Okay.”
He winked at her and rose from the chair.
“If you need anything, anything at all, I’ve got my cell phone with me. Call me.” He wrote his number on the whiteboard the nurses and hospital staff used to leave the patient notes and reminders. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Try to rest. I’ll ask the nurses’ desk to keep an eye on your room. No visitors until I get back. Okay?”
She nodded, but knew she wouldn’t get to sleep, no matter how much she needed a nap. She had too much swirling through her thoughts, too much weighting her heart. She had a new baby to protect. Benjamin.
The door clicked closed as Hunter left, and she glanced at her sleeping son. So tiny. So innocent. So dependent on her.
The dark suspicion that had hovered over her since the accident pressed down and crowded her until she couldn’t breathe. Hunter had found bullet holes in her car. Somewhere beyond the hospital walls, someone was waiting to kill her.
Chapter 4
Three hours later, Hunter returned to the hospital and knocked quietly on Brianna’s door before entering, just in case she was the with the doctor...or nursing. He was no lech, but the idea of her baring her breast, even to feed her son, was fodder for vivid images in his mind’s eye. He could too easily imagine her curves bared for his exploration, their bodies tangling in the sheets. Considering Brianna was a new mother, those tantalizing fantasies left him feeling uneasy and guilty. Was he wrong to feel this attraction to her? She was a beautiful woman, and every time their eyes met, he experienced a sense of connection, a crackling energy and deep stirring in both his body and his soul.
Hearing no response to his knock, he cracked the door open and peeked inside. “Brianna?”
Brianna sat propped up in the bed, the baby in her arms, her gaze latched firmly on her son. His pulse tripped at the sight of her, and he took a moment to simply drink in the poignant image.
She’d gotten cleaned up, as he had, and someone had found her a brush for her hair. It shone in glossy gold waves that framed her face and spilled over her shoulders. Her cheeks had more color now, and her skin had a fresh-scrubbed glow. The love in her expression as she gazed at her son was so pure and peaceful, his breath stilled in his lungs. He’d seen that same expression before...on his sisters-in-law’s faces when they’d rocked his nieces. A mother’s love. Maternal awe and wonder. Raw, unfiltered affection.
Watching her hold her baby, Hunter, too, felt a stir deep inside, but of a harder-edged emotion—a fierce determination to protect Brianna and her child. The clawing need to defend her was tangled with a sense of possessiveness and responsibility. She was his to care for, his to guard and provide for. His.
Except she wasn’t. He shook his head briskly. Somewhere out there, the father of Brianna’s baby was likely waiting for her. A man she’d cared enough for that she’d made love to him, carried his child. A man who had prior claim to her.
Hunter shoved down the stab of jealousy that thought fired inside him and stepped farther into the room.
Brianna raised her head, clearly startled, when he moved to the foot of her bed. “Oh, hi.”
He aimed a thumb at the door. “I knocked, but...”
“Sorry. My head was somewhere else. I didn’t hear you.” She wiggled her fingers in invitation. “Come in. Sit down.”
He didn’t like the idea that she’d been so unaware of her surroundings that he’d made it to her bed before she noticed him. With someone gunning for her, literally, she needed to be more alert, more careful. He made a mental note to talk with her about that.
“What did you find out?” she asked as he took a seat beside her.
“Not much yet. I didn’t find anything in the car that was helpful, but I took down your tag number and brought my laptop with me from my apartment.” He patted the computer bag slung over his shoulder. “We can do an online search for your tag number and see what comes up.”
She nodded. “A police officer stopped by after you left, wanting my statement about the accident. I couldn’t tell him much, obviously.”
A prickle of unease chased down his back. “Did he show you his badge? Was he in uniform?”
She frowned at his question. “Yes to both. And he left a card—” she motioned to her tray table “—and said they’d need a statement from you.”
“Okay. Am I supposed to call him?” Hunter picked up the card and read it. Sergeant Mark Wallace, Lagniappe Police Department.
“I told him you’d be back in a little while. I think he was going to come back up here after he got dinner.”
He nodded, and setting his computer bag aside, he leaned forward for a better look at her son. Benjamin. A curl of warmth rolled through his midsection. To say he was flattered she’d named her son after him would be an understatement. He’d helped her because it was what any decent person in his situation would have done. Maybe committing himself to helping her discover who she was and protecting her from the person responsible for shooting at her car was more than others would do. But something inside him compelled him to look after Brianna.
“Did he nap?” he asked now, gazing down at Benjamin’s bright blue eyes. The baby’s eyes shifted slightly toward him. He remembered his sister-in-law telling him a baby’s distance vision was unfocused early on, but Benjamin looked straight at him, perhaps drawn by the sound of his voice. Holding the baby’s gaze, Hunter felt a stir of emotion deep inside, a softening at his core.
“He did. He’s eaten a little more, too.”
Hunter smiled at Benjamin, even though he knew the baby was still too nearsighted to see it. “Hey, sport. How ya doin’?”
“Would you like to hold him?” Brianna asked.
Hunter shifted his attention to her. “Um, maybe later. Right now, I think we should do some research.” He opened his laptop and logged on to the internet. “The sooner we figure out who you are, the better. My family was going nuts looking for me after just a couple of hours this afternoon. I can imagine yours is especially worried, given your pregnancy and all.”
“You have family in town? A wife?”
He jerked his gaze up from his keyboard, and she blinked at him with wide, startled eyes. “No. I’m not married. I meant my brother and parents. I’d gone out for a jog when you wrecked your car.”
She released a deep breath, visibly relieved that he wasn’t married. And wasn’t that interesting?
Hunter glanced at the results of his browser search for Brianna’s car tag number. After scrolling a few pages, he found nothing helpful. A visit to the state’s DMV web page gave him little, as well. A few sites promised to conduct a search of private records for a fee, but he ignored those. Buzzing his lips in frustration, Hunter sat back in the chair. “Well, I’m not getting far here. Have you remembered anything else, no matter how small, that might help us with this puzzle?”
“No. Just this weird sense of danger. Of panic.” She bit her bottom lip and furrowed her brow. “I wouldn’t even know my first name if not for that key ring.”
“What about the other key chain that was on your car keys? The one that said ‘I Heart Cape Cod.’ Cape Cod ring any bells now?”
She closed her eyes for a moment, then sighed. “Nothing.”
“Well, it’s early. The doctor said to give your swelling a chance to recede.”
A knock sounded at the door, and a uniformed officer poked his head in the room. “Excuse me.”
Hunter stood and greeted the policeman. “Are you Sergeant Wallace?”
“I am. Would you be Hunter Mansfield?”
“Yours truly. I understand you need a statement about her accident.” Hunter waved the officer toward the only chair in the room, but Sergeant Wallace declined with a shake of his head.
“This shouldn’t take long. I just need your account of what happened to confirm what Ms. Coleman told us.”
“Ms. Coleman?” Hunter tipped his head. “Is that her name? Brianna Coleman?”
The policeman looked confused for a moment, then arched an eyebrow. “That’s right. You have no memory from before the accident?”
Brianna shook her head. “Nothing. Can you tell us anything? Did you run my license plate? Who is the car registered to? Where do I live?”
Sergeant Wallace flipped open a small notepad and read, “Your tag was registered to Brianna Coleman, home address 443 Cypress Creek Lane, Lagniappe.”
Wallace rattled off a phone number and Social Security number as well, and Hunter pulled a scrap of paper from his computer bag and jotted the information down.
“What did the tag registration say about my marital status? Was there anyone else listed as co-owner or my spouse?” Brianna asked, her expression full of hope.
The sergeant consulted his notes. “Not that I see.” Wallace raised his gaze to Hunter. “Want to tell me what you saw this afternoon? Did you see the car crash happen?”
Hunter flexed the fingers of one hand with the other and gave the officer a recap of what happened from the time Brianna drove toward him to the moment they left in the ambulance.