Where There's Smoke...

Two

In the spring, tourists came to Boston Harbor Marina in droves. Wearing their hats and sunscreen and fancy digital cameras with long-distance lens, families of sightseers converged on the docks. While dads clicked away, moms held on tightly to impatient little hands more eager to test the water rather than look at it. They ate foot-long hot dogs from Arnie’s Dog Cart at the end of the pier, ice cream cones from a vendor nicknamed Marty the Mariner, who entertained his clientele with stories of mermaids and ghost ships, then they took a two-hour tour of Boston Harbor.

From the deck of his sailboat, Shane watched the first tour bus of the day pull into a parking lot on the other side of the marina. A great place to visit, he thought, taking a long sip from the mug of steaming black coffee in his hand.

An even better place to live.

Half the year he lived in an apartment over his uncle’s pub, the other half he lived here in the marina. He’d used the money from his mom’s life insurance policy to buy the Free Spirit, a thirty-six-foot single-mast sloop. Marjorie Cummings had loved the ocean, had enjoyed the sailing trips her son had taken her on before and even after she’d fallen ill. Shane liked to think that he’d made her smile when he’d bought the boat and moved in.

Damn, but he missed that smile.

The sound of a powerboat pulling away from its slip caught his attention, and he lifted a hand in greeting as The Sea Breeze passed by. She was a pretty little yacht. Built for show as well as speed. And while Shane admired the shiny chrome and custom paint, the fancy boat with all its bells and whistles and oversize stateroom was simply not his style. What would he do with all that space? he thought in amusement. He didn’t even have a girlfriend, let alone a wife, though a few of the women he’d dated had made it clear they’d be happy to change his marital status.

But he was content with his life just the way it was. He came and went as he pleased, sometimes for days at a time. Other than his uncle, Shane had no one to answer to. No one checking up on him, wondering where he was, whom he was with or what he was doing. And that was fine with him.

He glanced up at a pair of seagulls flapping noisily overhead, screeching at each other in argument over a chunk of bread scavenged from a nearby trash can. The damp, salty air was crisp and cool, but the early morning fog had already begun to lift and the weather promised to be clear and warm. A good day for sailing, he mused, briefly considered taking the boat out, then decided against it. He’d promised his uncle he’d come by and help out with the lunch crowd, and he still needed to revarnish the last section of deck he’d been sanding for the past few days. He had plenty to do to keep his hands and mind occupied.

So why, then, had he spent most of last night and this morning thinking about a pretty brunette with velvet-brown eyes and a wide, luscious mouth that would tempt a monk?

After he’d been booted out of Emily’s room last night, Shane had gone home, poured himself a cold beer, then sat on the deck of his boat in the darkness and sifted through what he’d learned about Emily Barone from the nurses.

The Barone family and their gelato empire, Baronessa Gelati, had been in the papers quite a bit lately, he’d been told. Tabloid stuff, most of it revolving around some rather risqué photographs of one of Emily’s cousins taken with a Baronessa public relations man, and something about a batch of gelato that had been tainted with habaneros. He’d also learned that Emily had an older sister and two older twin brothers, one of whom he’d met last night and instantly disliked. When he’d walked in and found Derrick bullying Emily, it had been all Shane could do not to grab the jerk by the scruff of his neck and throw him out on his butt. Fortunately, the nurse had interrupted with the phone call, then the doctor had banned all visitors.

Still, Shane had been restless all night, had felt uneasy knowing that Emily might wake and still not know who she was or what had happened to her. He knew, of course, that her parents would be there, that she’d be well cared for. But strangely, it didn’t ease his concern.

Shane scrubbed a hand over his face, then tossed back the rest of his coffee. He had no business thinking about Emily, wondering what was going to happen to her. He’d simply done his job by pulling her out of the burning building. Her injuries weren’t life-threatening. She had her family to take care of her now.

She’d be fine, he told himself with a shrug. Emily Barone wasn’t his concern any longer, and she most certainly wasn’t his problem.

“Emily, can I get you something, dear? Some water, or another pillow?”

Emily glanced at the woman sitting beside her bed. Her hair was a soft blond, the style short and chic, her eyes pale blue with fine webs of wrinkles in the corners. She was still dressed in the sleek black suit she’d worn to the opera the evening before, but she looked as though she’d just stepped out of a limousine. The single strand of pearls resting at the base of her slender neck suited her porcelain skin, Emily thought. She was tall and elegant, and quite beautiful.

The woman was her mother, Emily knew, but there was nothing remotely familiar about her.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Emily said. “Really.”

“Exactly what she told you five minutes ago when you asked,” a man said as he turned from the window where he’d been quietly standing. “Let her rest, Sandra. Let her think.”

The man who spoke was her father, Paul Barone. For a man, he wasn’t tall, maybe around five nine, but he was stocky, with a thick chest and neck. If her mother hadn’t told her that he was a lawyer, Emily would have guessed him to be a well-tailored bouncer. His hair was dark and thinning, his brows low and thick over deep brown eyes. He’d barely said more than a dozen words since they’d arrived, had preferred to let his wife do the talking while he took everything in.

There’d been a battery of tests when Emily had awakened this morning. A brain scan, more blood work, blood pressure. Dozens of questions about her past that she hadn’t been able to answer. Dr. Tuscano had been thorough with her prodding and probing, and had pronounced her patient to be in excellent health. Except for one little thing.

Amnesia.

It had taken quite some time to digest the word. It was one thing to know what it meant, Emily thought, to know that such a thing existed, and quite another to live it.

Dr. Tuscano had reassured Emily and her parents that a loss of memory following a head trauma was nothing to worry about. Plus there was the emotional trauma to consider, as well, the doctor had said. Though no one knew exactly what had happened, it was reasonable to presume that Emily had been terrified, running to escape the flames and smoke when the ceiling had collapsed.

When—or if—her memory would return remained to be seen.

A young man brought a huge bouquet of brightly colored flowers into the room, the second bouquet she’d received this morning. Her mother accepted them, then looked at the card.

“They’re from Claudia,” Sandra said and glanced at her watch. “She was in a meeting in Washington, D.C., but caught the first plane out this morning when we called. She’s worried sick about you, and Daniel is, too, of course. He’s driving down from Manchester now. It took me forever to reach him, but then, you know how he is.”

No, she didn’t know how he was. She didn’t know him at all, or anyone else. She’d been told she had a sister named Claudia and a brother named Daniel— Derrick’s twin—but she didn’t know them. And the thought of all these people coming to see her, asking her questions, trying to make her remember, made her head start to pound again.

Emily closed her eyes and thought of Shane. He was her only connection, the only familiar person in what felt like a foreign land. He’d stayed with her last night until she’d fallen asleep. She knew it was silly of her, but she’d wished he’d been there when she’d woken this morning.

The thought that she probably wouldn’t see him again made her chest ache.

“I’ve said something wrong,” Sandra said. “I’m so sorry. I—I’m a little tired and seeing you lying here like this, knowing that you almost—” Sandra’s voice faltered, then she sucked in a breath and blinked back the threatening tears. “I just love you so much.”

“Thank you.” Though she couldn’t return the sentiment, Emily reached for her mother’s hand. “It’s nice to know I have a family, people who care about me. Why don’t you and…Dad go home and rest. Come back this afternoon.”

“I can’t leave you like this, all alone, not knowing—”

“Sandra.” Paul Barone moved beside his wife and put a hand on her shoulder. “Emily needs to rest, too. She can’t do that with us hovering. We’ll come back later.”

“I suppose you’re right.” But there was still reluctance in Sandra’s tired eyes. “We do need to shower and change. Lord knows, these heels are killing my feet.”

“I’ll be fine.” Emily forced a smile. “Really.”

With a sigh, Sandra leaned forward and kissed her daughter’s cheek. “If you need anything, just call the house. We can be back here in twenty minutes. I’ll leave instructions with Annie to wake me if I’m sleeping. Don’t worry about—”

“Sandra, enough.” Paul took his wife’s arm, then bent and gave Emily a peck on her forehead. “We’ll be back in a few hours. Sleep. You’ll need your strength when the rest of the troop gets here.”

Alone, Emily released the breath she’d been holding. The crescendo of pain in her temple had risen from a slow, irregular pulse to a steady, crashing throb. She wasn’t tired, but it hurt to think. Simply anticipating all those people coming to see her, people she couldn’t remember, made her anxious.

She needed to move, she decided, to get out of this bed. If she felt more in control, she was certain she could deal with her impending visitors and all the questions they would ask.

Slowly, she slid her legs out from under the sheets and over the side of the bed. She sat, felt her blood pound in her head, then slowly subside. Satisfied with her progress, she edged her bare feet to the cool tile, waited a moment and stood.

The floor felt steady under her, solid. Not so bad, she thought, even though her legs did feel a bit shaky and her head a little fuzzy. She was certain she could manage a few steps, stretch a few muscles, then slip back under the covers.

She made it to the end of the bed and her success made her a little too smug. She turned—or at least she thought she was turning.

Instead, her knees buckled.

She was a split second away from meeting the floor when a strong pair of arms scooped her up.

“Whoa.” Shane lifted her, held her firmly against his chest. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“I—I just wanted to stretch my legs.”

And what great legs they were, Shane thought, letting his gaze sweep down the long length of slender curves to her soft-pink-painted toes. The white cotton hospital gown that covered her from neck to mid-thigh was as far from sexy as it got, but that didn’t seem to matter. His blood stirred at the sight of her, and his pulse quickened.

It was the second time he’d held her in his arms. The first time had been professional; he’d had a job to do and he’d been completely focused on getting her safely out of the building. This time he felt anything but professional and his focus was not on his job, but on Emily herself.

“Is this a habit of yours, Mr. Cummings?” she asked. “Rescuing maidens in distress?”

“I was just passing by.” She weighed next to nothing, he thought. Quickly he realized that was what she was wearing, as well. Her skin was soft and silky. Warm. He really should put her down, he told himself. He really should.

“Just passing by my room?” she asked.

“The hospital. The doc thought I should have my lungs looked at today.”

Which was true. Dr. Tuscano had told him to have someone look at his lungs. But he could have gone to any number of clinics or over to Carney Hospital, which was much closer to the marina. Instead, he’d come back to Brookline.

“How are they?”

Damn, but she was pretty, he thought. Not like a supermodel. Just pretty. Delicate and soft. “How are what?”

“Your lungs.”

“Oh. Right. Fine.”

“Shane.” Her thick lashes dropped and a blush rose on her pale cheeks. “I’m all right now. You can put me down.”

Reluctantly, he laid her back in bed, then stepped away. “So, how are you doing?”

“Not so bad now.” On a sigh, she drew the covers up over her legs. “Though when I first woke up I was wondering if you’d thrown me out of that window last night rather than carried me. Is that for me?”

Shane glanced at the single red rosebud lying on the foot of her bed. When he’d walked into the room and seen her falling, he’d tossed it there. Now that he saw the two enormous bouquets she already had in her room, he felt more than foolish he’d brought it to her.

“There’s a stand downstairs that sells them,” he said with a shrug, and handed the flower to her. “The profits go to the children’s ward. For toys and games.”

“It’s beautiful.” Lifting the flower to her nose, she breathed in. “Thank you.”

The deep red of the rose against her smooth, creamy skin made his throat go dry. Dammit, anyway. What the hell was he doing here? It wasn’t as if this could go anywhere. He knew who the Barones were. Hell, anyone who lived in Boston had heard of them. What he made in six months was pocket money to Emily’s family.

“I haven’t even properly thanked you for saving my life.” She smiled at him, then extended her hand. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Like the rest of her, Emily’s hands were fine-boned and graceful. Her fingers were long and slender, nails neat and short. Her skin soft and cool.

The jolt of lust that shot through him had Shane quickly releasing her hand. “I should let you rest.”

“No, please stay.” Looking suddenly embarrassed, she lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so needy. It’s just that I…that you’re the only person who’s familiar to me. It’s a little overwhelming.”

“You still can’t remember anything?”

She shook her head. “Just what my parents told me. The doctor was hoping they might be able to help me by telling me about myself, that I worked as a secretary at Baronessa Gelati for my brother Derrick, that my mother and I had gone to lunch and shopping for my father’s birthday only a few days ago. That I live in an apartment in Brookline not too far from the plant. I like pasta and chocolate éclairs, and my nickname is Em.”

Closing her eyes, she laid her head back against her pillow. “It just made my head hurt.”

“So stop thinking.” He turned the chair beside her bed, then straddled it. “Just let your mind go somewhere else you’d rather be.”

“Like where?”

“How ’bout a quiet cove somewhere? No, keep your eyes closed,” he told her when she started to open them. “Or maybe an island in the Caribbean.”

“An island would be nice.” A smile touched the corners of her mouth as she shut her eyes again. “What does it look like?”

“Lots of tall palm trees. You can hear the fronds rustle in the balmy breeze and the waves lap on the shore. The water is so clear you can see a school of small yellow fish darting back and forth right off the shoreline. The sky is deep, deep blue.”

“There’s a puffy white cloud overhead.” Emily furrowed her brow in thought. “It’s in the shape of a butterfly.”

He watched her shoulders relax, the slow rise and fall of her breaths, then leaned forward and lowered his voice. “The sand is soft and warm against your back. There’s no one around for miles and miles.”

“You’re there.” Her voice was a little breathless. “You’re swimming.”

The thought of being alone on an island with Emily made his blood heat up. “The water feels great,” he murmured. “Maybe you should come in and join me.”

“I don’t know if I can swim. I—I can’t remember.”

“I’ll teach you if you—”

“Emily?”

Ripped from her island fantasy, Emily opened her eyes and watched as a young woman pushed open the door. When she hurried forward, Shane quickly stood and moved out of the way.

“Emily, thank God you’re all right.” The woman reached for Emily’s hand. “I’ve been so worried since Mama called. Daniel’s here, too, but I made him drop me off downstairs before he parked his car. Oh, sweetheart, you’re so pale.”

Her eyes were the same deep blue as the silk suit jacket and skirt she wore, Emily noted. Tall and slender, probably in her late twenties. She’d pulled back her mass of blond hair in a clip on top of her head, but several thick strands escaped in a riot of loose curls around her strikingly beautiful face.

A man entered the room then, around six foot, with brown hair and the same blue eyes as the woman’s. She knew this man was her other brother’s twin, but they were obviously too different in appearance to be identical. Though his clothes were casual—black slacks and a white polo shirt—he had an air of old money about him.

“Hey, Em.” His tone was easy, but there was concern in his steady gaze. “How’s the head?”

It was starting to throb again. “It’s all right.”

“Do you know who I am?” he asked carefully.

“You’re my brother. Daniel.” Emily studied the handsome man’s face, recognized the similarities between him and her father, then looked at the woman who was sitting on the side of her bed. With her hair and eyes, she looked more like their mother. “And you’re Claudia. My sister.”

Smiling brightly, Claudia gave Emily a gentle hug, then shot her brother a look. “I told you she’d know who we are.”

“Of course she knows who we are. Mom told her we were coming. The question is—” Daniel lifted a brow “—does she remember us?”

“Well, of course she does, silly. How can she not remember her own brother and—” Claudia went still, then narrowed her eyes. “Omigod, you don’t remember who we are, do you?”

Desperately Emily wanted to be back on that beach with Shane. Away from all the questions and the stares. “I—I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s just temporary.”

“Of course it’s temporary.” Claudia squeezed Emily’s hand. “We’re just so relieved you’re all right, that the firemen were able to get you out in time.”

“Shane found me.” Emily glanced over to where he’d been standing only a few moments ago.

He wasn’t there.

“Who?” Claudia looked over her shoulder.

“Shane. The fireman who carried me out of the building.”

“Where is he?” Daniel asked. “I’d like to thank him for saving my baby sister.”

Clutching the red rose he’d given her, Emily stared at the open doorway. “He’s gone.”