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Suddenly the street noises faded. His surroundings disappeared. For just a flash of time, Pierce was back on an island, standing on the beach, staring at the sky. A bird soared high overhead, silhouetted in the brilliant sunlight. It was an image that instantly brought back feelings of anger and betrayal. A nagging premonition of danger. And then a man’s voice at his shoulder. “You’ll need money. Here’s all I can spare. Go home now. Find your family and protect them.”
The vision vanished, leaving Pierce with a pounding headache in the warm morning sunshine.
Find your family and protect them.
Against what? Against whom?
For a moment, Pierce fought an almost overpowering urge to turn around, to go back home and make sure Jesse and his son were okay. But they’d managed just fine for five years without him. How could he help them now? How could he protect them from something he couldn’t even remember?
Wearily he put his hands to his temples, massaging away the pain as the memories and the feelings began to evaporate in the sunshine.
His stomach rumbled again—a demand for fuel—and Pierce knew that whatever had to be faced would best be done by getting back his strength. Besides, Jesse needed some space, and he needed time to figure out what to do.
He opened the glass door of the café and stepped inside. As disreputable as the place seemed to be, his appearance still garnered a few curious looks. He chose a table in the back and carefully studied the one-page menu. The meager selections tempted his appetite beyond reason, making him wonder again just how long it had been since he’d eaten. He chose a club sandwich, then checked his money again after the waitress had taken his order.
The bells over the door chimed, and Pierce’s head swung around, his gaze immediately scrutinizing the man who had just walked in. He was tall and thin with light brown hair and a thick mustache. He took a seat at the counter, and Pierce studied the man’s back for a full thirty seconds, not understanding his own wariness.
Did he know that man?
Caution. It was a deeply ingrained command, an almost instinctive behavior. Pierce’s gaze scoured the room, then came back to his own hands resting on the chipped Formica tabletop. They were trembling—from fatigue and hunger as well as emotion—but what caught his attention now was the raw, broken skin across his knuckles. He studied his hands as though they belonged to a stranger. They were scarred and dirty, the nails broken. Disgusted, he rose from his seat and located the men’s room nearby.
Trying to avoid his reflection in the mirror, Pierce scrubbed his hands with hot water and soap. The raw places on his knuckles stung, but he ignored the pain, automatically blacking it out. When his hands were as clean as he could get them, he filled the basin with cold water and plunged his face into it, hoping the icy shock would restore his memory.
Why was it he could remember Jesse and their life together so clearly, so vividly, and not anything about the immediate past? He could remember his childhood, his parents and the sterile, loveless home he’d grown up in. He remembered college at Georgetown and even friends he hadn’t seen or heard from in years. He could remember traveling in Europe and Asia before he’d met Jesse, and the secret he’d deliberately kept from her, the side of himself he’d never told her about.
Guilt welled inside him as he thought about the evasions and half truths he’d told her for years. She’d innocently accepted each and every one without question.
Except for the past five years, the memories were all coming back to him now, pouring through his mind so fast he felt a little dizzy.
For years, before he’d met Jesse, Pierce had been a specialized agent for a very elite agency that operated within the CIA. Very few operatives even had knowledge of the group whose specialty was deep cover. Pierce had been recruited out of college because he had a certain reputation for living on the edge and because of the antique business he’d inherited from his parents. It gave him the perfect excuse to travel around the world without arousing questions. His real identity had become a deep cover for him, the very best kind because no one ever suspected.
Not even Jesse.
He gazed at his reflection in the mirror. He’d never told her even after they’d married—not just because of the oath he’d sworn to uphold—but because he’d always thought the less she knew the safer she’d be. It had been his duty to protect her.
It still was.
The washroom door swung open, and Pierce whipped his head around, his hand reaching for a weapon he knew instinctively he hadn’t had in years. The man who’d been sitting at the bar now stepped inside the room. He gave Pierce barely a glance as he headed for a basin and began washing his hands. Quickly Pierce drained the sink, then combed his fingers through his damp hair, trying without much success to look a little more presentable.
The man was studying him in the mirror. Pierce turned and their gazes met. He searched the man’s face for some sign of recognition. Something other than the niggle of suspicion was worrying him.
“Nice day, isn’t it?” the man asked pleasantly as he dried his hands on a paper towel.
“It’ll probably rain this afternoon,” Pierce replied automatically, not exactly sure where the response had come from.
Somehow the answer seemed expected. Something flashed in the man’s blue eyes, and then he smiled slightly, his mustache tilting at one corner. “One thing’s for sure. You can never predict the weather this time of year. Be a fool to try.” Then he turned, tossed the paper towel in the trash bin and exited the washroom.
Shaken by the encounter and having no idea why, Pierce waited a few seconds, then followed the man out. The stranger was seated at the counter again and didn’t look around. But Pierce’s appetite was gone. He tossed some bills onto the table and hurried through the café door.
Outside, the sun blinded him. Pierce leaned against the building’s redbrick facade as the full realization of his plight hit him square in the face. He’d just spent the last of his money, he was still hungry, and he had absolutely nowhere to go.
Wiping a streak of sweat from his temple, he pushed himself away from the building and started walking down the street.
* * *
“Now, let me get this straight,” Jay Greene said as he sat across the kitchen table from Jessica. “You’re telling me that Pierce Kincaid—a man who disappeared five years ago—strolled through your back door this morning as if he’d only been gone half an hour?”
Jessica nodded weakly. “He even brought me the ice cream I’d sent him out to get that day, right down to the correct flavor.”
“And you have no idea where he is now?”
“I took Max next door, and when I came back, he was gone. That was this morning, Jay. He looked so tired, so…ill. I can’t help but think of him out there wandering the streets. It’ll be dark soon—” The look on Jay’s face stopped her.
“I wouldn’t get carried away with the pity just yet, Jesse. This whole memory thing seems a little too convenient for me.”
“You think he’s lying?” Her voice sounded anxious, shaky.
“Wouldn’t be the first time a husband just up and took off. Think about it.”
She had thought about it. Endlessly. “But…we were so happy,” Jessica protested. “We were both excited about the baby. The shop was doing great, we’d just bought this house—”
“And maybe he woke up one morning and decided he couldn’t handle the responsibilities anymore. It happens, and Pierce Kincaid was always a bit footloose, if you ask me. You said yourself he ran the business in a haphazard fashion, and frankly he never struck me as the family-man type.
“Now, out of the blue, he appears on your doorstep, just when you’ve gotten your own life in order. Look at this place, Jesse. It’s worth a small fortune, and so is the shop. When he tired of whatever the hell he was doing, why wouldn’t he want to come back here?”
Jessica stared absently out the window. Jay wasn’t telling her anything she hadn’t thought of herself, but it still wasn’t easy to hear. It wasn’t easy to think that Pierce might have walked out on her. That he had lied about his feelings for her.
She had been so sure. So sure their love had been real.
A breeze lifted the hem of the pale blue curtains as it carried in the evening scents—honeysuckle, clover and roses. Years ago, after long days at the shop, she and Pierce would sit on the back porch and sip wine while they watched the first stars twinkle out. Twilight had always been a special time of day for them, a time when the cares of the day melted away into the coming darkness.
Had none of that meant as much to him as it had to her?
As if echoing her thoughts, Jay covered her hand with his and asked softly, “How do you feel about him now, Jesse? What was it like seeing him again?”
She sighed. “I’m not sure. I know you’re right. I do have to be careful, but you didn’t see him. I think he must have been in some sort of accident. He has all these scars. Do you think—could he have been kidnapped five years ago? Held all this time?”
“With no ransom note?” Her brother looked skeptical. “It’s possible. Hell, anything’s possible. But victims who’re kidnapped either in a robbery or for sport usually turn up dead. Five years is a long time to hold someone captive.”
“I know,” Jessica agreed, her tone bleak. “I just keep asking myself where he could have been all this time. What could have happened to him?”
“Did he have any identification on him?”
Jessica shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask to see it. I didn’t need to.”
“You’re that sure it was him?” Jay’s icy gray eyes scrutinized her face.
“It was him. It was Pierce.”
Jay swept his hand through his brown hair, setting it on end. He shook his head. “Damn, what a mess. You know I’ll do what I can, but I couldn’t find out anything about him five years ago. It was as if he disappeared off the face of the earth. We may not have any better luck now.”
“I just want you to find him,” she whispered desperately. “Whatever he’s done, wherever he’s been—he needs help.”
“Your help?”
Jessica hesitated for a moment, biting her lip. “He’s still my husband.”
“Technically,” her brother agreed grimly. “All right, I’ll see what I can do.” He took out a pen and pad and began jotting down notes. “Give me a general physical description of how he looked, what he was wearing and all that. And how about a cup of coffee? This looks to be a long night,” he said with a sigh.
Jessica rose from the table and reached for a cup, but the barking of a neighbor’s dog stilled her movements. A shadow swept across the open window, so swiftly she thought at first she’d imagined it. Then came a scraping noise on the back porch, as if someone had bumped into a chair.
Jessica’s gaze flew to Jay’s, her heart hammering in her chest. He lifted a finger to his lips, silencing her. Slowly he reached for the light switch just as the sound of the back-door buzzer ripped through the quiet. Jessica gasped and Jay cursed softly as both their gazes fastened on the dark silhouette outside her kitchen door.
Chapter Three
At Jay’s nod, Jessica rose and went to answer the back door. Heart still pounding, she turned the knob and drew back the door. Pierce stood on the porch, his pale, gaunt features highlighted by the light from the open doorway. If possible, he looked even more weary than he had that morning.
For the longest moment, he and Jessica stared at one another. Neither of them spoke, but the tension crackled between them like a live wire in an electrical storm.
Then his hands slipped into the front pockets of his jeans and he shrugged, a gesture that was at once familiar and dear. The ghost of a smile touched his lips. “I seemed to have lost my key,” he said wryly.
They both seemed to waver with indecision. Then with a little gasping sob, Jessica took a step toward him as Pierce moved toward her. His arms went around her and held her tightly as she clung to him, her eyes squeezed shut against the intense emotions spiraling through her.
Pierce was alive!
For a moment, everything else vanished from Jessica’s mind. She just wanted to hold him, assure herself that this was no dream. He buried his face in her hair, and she could feel his arms trembling as they held her, could feel his heart beating against hers. One hand came up and brushed through her tangled curls.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered raggedly. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come back here, but…I had to. I had to see you again, to make sure you were all right….”
“It’s okay,” she said, her voice cracking with deep emotion. She could feel the leanness of his body against her, the sharply defined ridges of his ribs through the ragged shirt. Pierce had once been so virile and muscular. To see him now made Jessica’s heart ache with sorrow.
But even now, when he’d been through God knows what, she could still sense remnants of strength in his arms, a hint of the same confidence she had always admired so much. Pierce was not a man who would be taken down without a fight.
That thought struck her with cold reality. Was that why he had all the scars? Had he been fighting for his life all this time? Dear God…
As if sensing her thoughts, she felt his posture stiffen. She lifted her head and saw that he was staring over her shoulder, his dark eyes wary once more.
“Hello, Jay,” he said with a thin smile. “Aren’t you out of uniform?”
Jessica had forgotten all about her brother. Awkwardness now settled over the room like a funeral pall. She tried to pull away from Pierce, but his arms held her for a fraction longer, as if staking his claim before letting her go.
“I didn’t think this was an official visit,” Jay said. But even without his uniform, he stood military straight, his cool gaze taking Pierce’s measure without blinking.
Jessica backed away, her gaze darting from Pierce to Jay. Her brother’s expression must have been identical to the one she’d worn that morning. The mixture of suspicion, disbelief, anger and even touches of fear echoed in Jay’s gray eyes.
It seemed a million years before either of them spoke again. Jessica’s heart raced with tension as she stared up at Pierce, once again taking in the haggard features, the scar.
Pierce smiled. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
“Not where my responsibilities are concerned,” Jay agreed. “Shall we all sit down? Jesse, can you get us some coffee?”
The command finally motivated her. Jessica headed toward the coffeepot, relieved to have something to do. She could feel Pierce’s dark eyes on her, following her every movement. Reluctantly her own gaze lifted to meet his. Something flashed between them—a memory? A feeling? Jessica wasn’t sure. But all of a sudden, she felt a tiny shiver of warning scurry up her spine.
Pierce’s proprietary gaze moved over her, greedily, familiarly, making her body tingle with memories she’d long ago suppressed. He was looking at her the way she remembered him looking at her. The brown eyes were narrowed slightly, the long, thick lashes hooding his expression, but Jessica knew what he was thinking. She’d always known.
She said the first thing that came to her mind. “You look hungry.”
“Starving.” His eyes never left her mouth.
Her face flamed at the inadvertent—or not so inadvertent—innuendo. Nervously she wiped her moist palms on a paper towel as she moved past him toward the refrigerator.
“Actually, what I’d really like to do is get cleaned up,” Pierce said. He started toward the kitchen door, then checked himself as he looked back at her. “Is that all right?”
“Of course.”
He hesitated, his gaze unreadable. “Where?”
That jolted her. Where, indeed? She’d long since removed his belongings from her bedroom, except for a few mementos she couldn’t bring herself to part with. The idea of him once again occupying that room was distinctly uncomfortable.
The question of where he should shower brought up a whole new set of problems for Jessica. Where would he stay? Where would he sleep? What did he expect from her? They were still legally married, but five years was a long time. Even if he had no memory of their separation, the reality of those long, lonely years still breathed a life of their own inside Jessica’s heart. Surely he didn’t expect just to waltz back in and pick up where they’d left off five years ago.
But if he was really suffering from amnesia, then that’s exactly what he would expect. His feelings hadn’t changed—even if hers had.
Her gaze lifted again, and Pierce’s eyes trapped her with a look she thought seemed slightly reproachful, as if he’d read her exact thoughts. She blushed again and said almost defiantly, “Sometime ago, I moved all your things into the guest room downstairs. You’ll find fresh towels in the bathroom. Everything you need….”
Her voice trailed off at his look. Not everything, he seemed to be communicating. Then he turned and disappeared through the swinging door to the dining room.
Silence quivered in the air for a long moment, then Jay said, “Well, I’ll be damned. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”
With shaking fingers, Jessica pulled the makings of a sandwich from the refrigerator and placed each item carefully on the counter. “So…what do you think?” she asked, not daring to meet her brother’s eyes. He’d already seen more than she would have wanted him to. Her reaction when she’d first seen Pierce at the door had been purely spontaneous, an overreaction to the tumultuous emotions racing through her. She hadn’t stopped to think about what she was doing, about the wrong signals she might be sending to Pierce.
Now she did stop to think, and she regretted the embrace because it had instantly created a bond between them, an intimacy that was far more than she could deal with right now. She was glad Pierce was alive. More than glad. Joyful. Thankful. They’d conceived a son together. But the years apart had been longer than the years they’d had together. There was no way they could ever go back to what they’d once had.
She hoped to God Pierce understood that.
Jay got up and carried his cup across the room to the coffeepot. He poured himself a fresh cup, took a tentative sip, and grimaced. “Damn, Jesse, I wish you’d learn to make a decent cup of coffee.”
“My mind was elsewhere, okay?” she snapped.
“Hey, don’t bite my head off. I’m an innocent bystander in all this.”
“Sorry.” She dropped down at the kitchen table and propped her chin in her hand. “What am I supposed to do?” she asked in desperation. “I don’t even know him anymore, and he doesn’t know me. I don’t know where he’s been, what he’s done, why he’s back. I’m not even the same person he left five years ago. I’ve grown up. I’ve taken charge of my life. I don’t—”
“Need him anymore?” Jay nodded. “I’m sure he’ll find that out soon enough, if he sticks around.”
“What do you mean if?” Jessica raked impatient fingers through her hair as she stared at her brother. “You think he’s going to leave me…leave again?”
Jay shrugged as he brought his coffee to the table and sat down again. “Let’s just say I’m trying to keep an open mind. Wherever he’s been, he’s had trouble. You only have to look at him to know that much. What I can’t help wondering is what kind. And if he’s bringing it back here with him.”
Jessica’s silver gaze rested on Jay’s stern countenance. “Meaning he could be on the run?”
Her brother merely shrugged as he lifted the cup to his lips. But his gray eyes were darkened with worry. “Max is next door with Sharon, right?”
His tone was a little too casual. Jessica found herself shivering with an eerie premonition as she nodded. “She called earlier and asked if he could stay the night. Under the circumstances, I thought it was a good idea.”
“So do I.”
Their gazes met again, and Jessica saw her own uneasiness mirrored in Jay’s eyes. But before either of them could speak, the kitchen door swung inward and Pierce stepped into the room.
Jessica’s gaze instantly collided with his. He looked better, she had to admit. Much better. His dark hair, still glistening with dampness, had been carefully combed and the days-old growth of beard had been scraped away, accentuating even more dramatically the white scar down his cheek, the deep creases around his eyes and mouth.
The jeans he’d put on were old and worn, a pair he used to favor for puttering around the house. But even though they were frayed at the hem and shiny at the knees, they were far better than the disreputable pair he’d discarded. They hung loosely on his gaunt frame, reminding Jessica of how snugly they had once fitted him, how sexy he’d always looked in them.
He wore a blue cotton shirt—sleeves rolled up, tail out—that triggered yet another memory for Jessica. He’d worn a blue shirt the day he’d disappeared. Had he remembered that, too, or was his selection an ironic coincidence?
He returned her appraisal, the deep brown eyes warm and seeking as they moved slowly over her face and then downward. Her own jeans fitted a little too snugly. She’d always been pencil thin, but after Max was born, she’d filled out and had never been able to drop the extra ten pounds. Actually, she’d always been happy with the added weight, but now she found herself wondering what Pierce thought.
The sudden warmth spiraling through her veins shocked her. And scared her. It had been a long time since she’d felt sexual desire. Not since Pierce had left. Sex with him had been wonderful because it was with him. But before she’d met him and after he’d left, abstinence had never been a problem for her.
Pierce had always teased her that she was like a car engine on a frosty morning. She had to be warmed up properly to get the best mileage. Jessica’s cheeks heated at the memory.
Finally breaking eye contact, she jumped up from the table and busily began assembling his sandwich. Pierce sat down at the table across from Jay, and the two men eyed each other stonily, reminding Jessica that, to her despair, they’d never been the best of friends. She placed the plate in front of Pierce, and their hands touched briefly before Jessica drew hers back.
“What would you like to drink?” she asked in a brisk tone.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a beer,” he suggested with a smile that sent a new wave of awareness washing over her.
“How would you know that?” Jay asked quietly. “I thought you lost your memory.”
Pierce’s head swiveled so that his eyes met Jessica’s. “It’s just an impression, not a memory. I think I’ve done without a lot of things.”
The bottle almost slipped from Jessica’s fingers. Hands shaking, she poured the beer into a mug and set it beside Pierce’s plate, careful this time to avoid his touch. She sat down at the table and watched him attack the sandwich.
His appetite seemed ravenous, though she could tell he tried to curb his urgency. The sandwich disappeared in seconds.
“Would you like another one?” she asked softly, her heart feeling as if it would break in two.
The idea of seconds seemed to shock him for a moment. Then he said, “If you’re sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
It took Jessica a long time to make the second sandwich. She stood at the counter, her back to the men as she tried to gather her shattered poise. But as soon as she wiped away the silent tears from her face, a new batch would take their place. Instinctively she knew she wouldn’t let him see her pity. That was the worst thing she could do to a man like Pierce.
At last, sniffing as unobtrusively as she could, Jessica placed the sandwich on the table and said hurriedly, “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I, uh, have something to do in the other room.”
She all but fled the kitchen, leaving dead silence in her wake.