He had healer’s hands. Long elegant fingers with the tips slightly calloused, as if he didn’t really spend all his time sitting behind a desk analyzing people. And when he slipped them over the curve of her ear, Tess shivered….

He leaned closer, using a cotton swab to gently clean her cut. “What were you thinking out there in the pool—right before you started to go under?”

His breath was warm against her cheek. Tess shook her head. Concentrating on his words, not on what he was doing to her body. “I don’t know. I can’t remember. It’s all a blur. Just a big blur.”

As she spoke, Tess was conscious of how close he was. His mouth was only inches from hers. It would be so simple to lift her head and quickly brush her lips across his, to run her tongue along the swell of his bottom lip and then carefully, slowly suck it in.

She tightened her fingers on the edge of the sheet. What was she thinking? Please don’t let me make a total fool out of myself, she thought. The stakes are much too high.

“Do you trust me enough to let me help you, Tess?”

Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

We have another month of spine-tingling romantic thrillers lined up for you—starting with the much anticipated second book in Joanna Wayne’s tantalizing miniseries duo, HIDDEN PASSIONS: FULL MOON MADNESS. In Just Before Dawn, a reclusive mountain man vows to get to the bottom of a single mother’s terrifying nightmares before darkness closes in.

Award-winning author Leigh Riker makes an exciting debut in the Harlequin Intrigue line this May with Double Take. Next, pulses race out of control in Mask of a Hunter by Sylvie Kurtz—the second installment in THE SEEKERS—when a tough operative’s cover story as doting lover to a pretty librarian threatens to blow up.

Be there from the beginning of our brand-new in-line continuity, SHOTGUN SALLYS! In this exciting trilogy, three young women friends uncover a scandal in the town of Mustang Valley, Texas, that puts their lives—and the lives of the men they love—on the line. Don’t miss Out for Justice by Susan Kearney.

To wrap up a month of can’t-miss romantic suspense, Doreen Roberts debuts in the Harlequin Intrigue line with Official Duty, the next title in our COWBOY COPS thematic promotion. It’s a double-murder investigation that forces a woman out of hiding to face her perilous past…and her pent-up feelings for the sexy sheriff who still has her heart in custody. Last but certainly not least, Emergency Contact by Susan Peterson—part of our DEAD BOLT promotion—is an edgy psychological thriller about a traumatized amnesiac who may have been brainwashed to do the unthinkable….

Enjoy all our selections this month!

Sincerely,

Denise O’Sullivan

Senior Editor,

Harlequin Intrigue

Emergency Contact
Susan Peterson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A devoted Star Trek fan, Susan Peterson wrote her first science-fiction novel at the age of thirteen. But unlike other Star Trek fan writers, in Susan’s novel she made sure that Mr. Spock fell in love. Unfortunately, what she didn’t take into consideration was the fact that falling in love and pursuing a life of total logic didn’t exactly go hand in hand. In any case, it was then that she realized that she was a hopeless romantic, a person who needed the happily-ever-after ending. But it wasn’t until later in life, after pursuing careers in intensive care nursing and school psychology, that Susan finally found the time to pursue a career in writing. An ardent fan of psychological thrillers and suspense, Susan combined her love of romance and suspense into several manuscripts targeted to the Harlequin Intrigue line. Getting the go-ahead to write for this line was a dream come true for her.

Susan lives in a small town in northern New York with her son, Kevin, her nutball dog, Ozzie, Phoenix the cat and Lex the six-toed menace (a new kitten). Susan loves to hear from readers. E-mail her at SusanPetersonHI@aol.com or visit her Web site at susanpeterson.net.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Tess Doe (Ross)—Although unaware of her own identity, Tess knows that she can trust no one, including gentle but probing psychiatrist Ryan Donovan, called in to treat her. Instinct tells her that her enemies are closing in and she must escape before time runs out.

Ryan Donovan, M.D.—Disillusioned with clinical work, he returns to his hometown, determined to bury himself in research. But he quickly finds himself intriguingly involved with the beautiful but perplexing amnesiac who walked out of a local cornfield.

Gen. Thomas Flynn—A member of the ultraconservative organization The Patriot’s Foundation of Family Values, Flynn is a decisive, arrogant man who decides to change the political course of a country by whatever means possible.

Sidney Bloom, M.D.—A brilliant scientist who vehemently believes in the old adage The End Justifies the Means.

Ian McCaffery—A human machine bent on making sure his superior’s plans for change come to fruition.

For you, Dad.

I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but your

deep love, warm support and total belief in my talent

have always made me feel appreciated. I love being

one of your four daughters.

Thanks to my critique partners Chris Wenger, Linda Bleser & Tracy Rysavy. You made this all possible.

A special thanks to Patricia Otto, R.N. and Eric Lemza for their wonderful medical insights. Any medical errors are totally my fault and were done in order to make this work of fiction possible.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter One

The morning Tess Doe walked naked out of the Half Moon, Iowa, cornfield, psychiatrist Ryan Donovan was three miles away, wolfing down one of Sally Todd’s homemade sugar doughnuts and sipping some of her fresh-brewed coffee.

“You want a dozen of them to go, Doc?” Sally asked, backing out of the kitchen and balancing a huge metal tray of iced apple turnovers in one hand. She set the tray onto the counter and wiped her flour-smudged hands on her apron.

“Alice will kill me if I bring any of that stuff into the office,” Ryan said, using the corner of a paper napkin to swipe at his mouth.

Shortly after meeting him, his new secretary had lamented to every other secretary on their floor that her new boss could eat like a horse and never gain an ounce. Ryan had taken it as fair warning not to bring in the usual office goodies.

“Pish-posh, the girl just needs to accept the fact that she comes from good farm stock. She needs to celebrate her largeness.”

Ryan didn’t have a response to that one. Sometimes Sally’s hometown philosophy wasn’t debatable. He had a feeling this was one of those times.

Sally grabbed a white baker’s bag off the shelf and snapped it open. Before he could stop her, she’d shoved a dozen sugar and bavarian-cream doughnuts inside and set it on the counter in front of him.

“Did you hear those helicopters overhead last night?” she asked.

“Heard something hovering overhead, but I didn’t have time to go look.” Ryan took a sip of coffee. If there was anything Sally Todd liked better than baking, it was exchanging a bit of gossip.

“When I stopped for gas this morning, Gary said he thought he saw an explosion over by the Carson farm,” Sally said. “But by the time he got there it was too dark to see anything.”

“Wonderful,” Ryan said dryly. “Now we’ll have Gary telling everyone that aliens have landed in Half Moon.”

“Don’t be making fun of poor Gary. People are a tad spooked with that research center being here.”

Ryan laughed. “Talk about small town paranoia. All we’re doing is boring pharmaceutical research.”

Before Sally could comment, her phone rang and she reached around to answer it. Ryan pulled a ten-dollar bill out of his wallet, set it on the counter, and picked up the bag of doughnuts. He nodded to Sally, prepared to head out to work. But she waved at him, signaling for him to wait.

A few seconds later, she hung up the phone. “That was the police dispatcher. She said the Chief is looking for you. Wants you to meet him out at the Carson farm.”

Ryan frowned. “Chief Cole wants to see me?”

“Yep, right away.”

Puzzled, Ryan shrugged. “Okay, I’ll head out there.”

He waved and strolled out onto the main street of Half Moon. A few cars and pickup trucks were parked along Station Street, the main drag through town. Most belonged to the store owners that occupied the not-so-bustling shopping strip that made up downtown Half Moon. No large malls or superstores in this tiny town. But Ryan figured he’d adjust. He’d have to.

Two months ago, weary from battling traffic and short-tempered city folks, he had quit his staff position at Boston’s Neuropsychiatric Hospital and returned home to Half Moon, a tiny, rural farming community. It was only luck that his old mentor, Dr. Sidney Bloom, had a position open for him at the Half Moon Research Center, a small, private facility dedicated to neuropsychiatric research.

Ryan shook his head. Who was he kidding? Crowds, traffic and a busy schedule hadn’t prompted his decision to leave. Failure had forced him to leave. There wasn’t much room for a psychiatrist who didn’t know how to function better than a first-year medical student. A psychiatrist who failed his patients.

He breathed deep, tasting the sweet warmth of summer, and raked a restless hand through his hair. Time to quit analyzing everything. Some things were better left alone. Research, not clinical work, was where he needed to concentrate his talents.

He climbed into his dusty BMW and took off out of town. Fifteen minutes later, he pulled up the winding dirt driveway leading to the Carson farm.

On the front lawn, next to one of Betty Carson’s carefully tended flower beds, stood Half Moon’s Chief of Police Ted Cole and Bud Carson. Bud’s expression was worried enough to send a jolt of concern through Ryan. Not much rattled Bud. Not even the night a private patient had left the research facility and climbed through the downstairs window of his house and started cooking scrambled eggs in the Carsons’ kitchen.

Ryan pulled up behind Cole’s truck and jumped out. “Morning, gentlemen. What’s the big emergency?”

Chief Cole scowled. “Another nutcase has escaped from the center and landed in Bud’s cornfield.”

“Chief, people don’t escape from the Half Moon Research Center,” Ryan said patiently. “Sometimes people leave the center without signing out or letting anyone know where they’re going, but they’re at the center of their own free will.”

Chief Cole snorted. “Still means they’re going over the wall, if you ask me.” He nodded his head in Bud Carson’s direction. “The nut job scared the stuffing out of poor Bud here.”

Ryan smiled at the elderly farmer. “You do look a little rattled, Bud.”

Bud ran a gnarled hand through his thinning gray hair. “I have good reason to, Doc. I was out back, taking a look at the corn when I heard something rustling. I looked up and out steps this woman. Damn near dropped my teeth.”

Cole shot a sly sideways grin at his friend and then elbowed him in the side. “She got old Bud’s pulse aracing, too.”

Ryan raised a questioning eyebrow in the farmer’s direction.

“She was buck naked, Doc,” Bud explained. A twinge of red pinked the tip of the man’s ears. “Not a stitch on. Good thing Betty brought me some of that new denture adhesive. Otherwise I might ’ave lost ’em for sure.”

Ryan glanced at the Chief. “I haven’t heard anything about anyone leaving the center without permission. Did you call Dr. Bloom?”

The Chief nodded. “He was too busy to talk to me. I just got some flunky of his. I figured you’d be easier to deal with.”

“I’ll help in any way I can,” Ryan said.

After nodding to the two men, Ryan took the wooden porch steps two at a time. As he pulled open the screen door and stepped into the cheery farm kitchen, Betty Carson greeted him. “I’m glad they found you, Ryan. She’s in the living room. Go easy on her. Poor thing is as scared as a newborn baby rabbit.”

Ryan gave Betty a reassuring smile. “I’ll be gentle.”

He stepped around her and walked into the dimly lit living room. Like a lot of farm folks, Betty Carson kept the main part of the house cool by drawing heavy curtains to block the hot morning sun. The front room was dark, the furniture sitting amidst a heavy gloom.

In spite of the poor light, Ryan spotted the woman immediately. She sat in the cushioned easy chair occupying the far corner of the room. She was covered from neck to feet with a hand-stitched quilt—one of Betty’s legendary homemade quilts, no doubt. Her legs were drawn up beneath the blanket, and her chin, small with a slight indentation in it, rested on her knees.

She watched him from beneath a fringe of dark lashes. Lashes so dark they were startling when contrasted with the fall of white-blond hair spread out like a shawl across her slender shoulders.

But it was the wide, iridescent green eyes beneath the straight line of bangs that caught and held his attention, sending a deep and intense awareness shooting through him. He couldn’t help but be struck by her stunning beauty.

“Good morning,” he said softly. “My name is Donovan. Ryan Donovan. I’m a doctor.”

At the word doctor, she stiffened a bit, her expression less friendly. “I didn’t ask for a doctor,” she said. “And I don’t need one.”

He smiled. “Good, because I’m in the mood to just talk. Is that all right with you?”

She stared at him in silence, her gaze penetrating, almost haunting in its directness. It seemed to sear him with a heat that was more piercing than twin lasers. But she didn’t lift her head off her knees or make any other move to indicate she was opposed to his suggestion.

Ryan crossed the room, moving slowly, so as not to crowd or frighten her. She followed his progress with her eyes, their color radiating an unblinking brilliance in the dimness of the room. She didn’t seem tense or skittish, simply wary, as if prepared for anything.

He pointed to the couch directly across from her. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

She shrugged. “Do what you like. This isn’t my house.”

Ryan leaned forward to catch her words, the sound so soft and light it was like a breeze brushing past his ear. The effect startled him and he struggled to regain his composure, feeling oddly off balance.

What the hell was going on? He was never rattled when meeting a patient. He was the man always in control, always ready to handle the situation. The interns in the E.R. used to love it when he was the attending on-call and showed up to consult on a case. No matter how off-the-wall the E.R. walk-ins got, the interns knew that Ryan Donovan could handle them without breaking a sweat.

He sat down and crossed one leg over the other, taking a moment to get a feel for the situation. As he slid an arm along the back of the couch, he tried to impart an air of calm he didn’t feel. But the last thing he wanted to do was spook her.

“The Carsons asked me to come because they were concerned that you might be injured.” Ryan waited, but when she didn’t respond, he continued. “They thought you might have been in an accident.”

She shook her head and the perfect cut of bangs ruffled a bit with the movement of her head. They parted to reveal a small cut on her forehead, but it wasn’t bleeding and didn’t appear very deep.

“I don’t think I was in an accident.”

She spoke each word clearly, but there was a slight hesitation, as if she was struggling to form the words before saying them. Perhaps the pause indicated some kind of head trauma, he thought. She seemed oblivious to the cut on her head.

“May I ask your name?”

“Tess.” The small frown was back between her brows, and she looked as though she might have searched for the name, dug it up from somewhere deep inside. “My name is Tess,” she said slowly.

Ryan waited a beat and then asked, “No last name?”

Beneath the quilt, her hands moved, tightening around her knees. “Just Tess.” Her shoulders braced as if anticipating his next question.

Ryan attempted to inject some lightness into the tenseness that hovered between them. “I don’t know too many people who go by only one name.”

She lifted her eyes, her gaze slightly mocking. “Cher. Batman. Garfield.”

He had to laugh. “Okay, you’ve got me there. A famous celebrity and two equally well-known cartoon characters. Are you telling me you’re someone famous?”

She shook her head and the hair shimmered in the soft light. Her chin settled back on top of her knees. “No, I’m not famous.”

“Can you tell me how you got into the Carsons’ cornfield?”

“I walked.”

“Yes, but where were you before you walked into the field?”

“Somewhere else.”

Ryan tried another tack. “I haven’t seen you around here before. Do you live close by?”

For the first time, she smiled, a slight trembling stretch of her lips, as if she were afraid of him but wanted to come across as compliant. Cooperative. As if she hoped that if she kept things on an even keel, everything would be all right and he’d leave her alone.

“No. I don’t live close by. I’m visiting.”

“Who did you come to visit? Perhaps we could contact them and tell them you’re here.”

She shook her head. “There’s no need. Betty and Bud are out in the kitchen. They know I’m here.”

“You’re here visiting the Carsons?” Try as he might, Ryan couldn’t keep the confusion out of his voice.

“Yes, this is their house.” She sat forward, the tiny frown popping up between two delicately arched eyebrows again. “You didn’t know this was the Carsons’ house? Are you lost?”

Ryan rubbed the side of his jaw. It wasn’t often that patients were able to get around him so easily. “No. I’m not lost. I thought you might be the one who was lost or confused.”

She settled back again and smiled with relief. “No, I’m not lost, either.”

Ryan decided that he needed to get a bit more direct. Otherwise they were going to talk in circles all morning. “You said you were visiting the Carsons. But the Carsons don’t seem to know you. Why would you visit people you don’t know?”

Tess smiled serenely. “New friends are important. Bud and Betty are my new friends.”

Ryan tried to keep his exasperation from showing. “Where specifically were you before you came to Half Moon,” he asked.

“I told you, I was somewhere else.”

Ryan swallowed hard. This was going nowhere. Maybe his ex-boss’s assessment of his clinical skills were right. Perhaps he had lost his touch. “I noticed you have a small cut on your forehead. Did that happen last night?”

Tess stared at him, her emerald-green eyes seeming to cut right through him. “Yes. I tripped and fell in the dark. It’s nothing. A small scratch.”

“I’d like to examine it, if you’ll let me.”

She sighed, a tiny puff of air passing between lush, slightly parted lips. Ryan waited. The corner clock clicked off the minutes as she considered his offer.

Finally she nodded, her gaze still wary. “I guess it would be all right.”

Ryan stood up and moved over next to her. Tess tilted her head back, giving him access to her forehead. He brushed aside her silky bangs, his fingers sliding over her soft skin. Air hissed between her teeth as he touched the edges of the cut.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It—it’s all right. Stings a bit, but you have a very gentle touch.”

Ryan leaned across her. “I’m going to turn on the light so I can see it better.”

She slid an arm out from beneath the blanket and touched him, her fingers resting lightly on his forearm. A shiver shot up his arm and Ryan paused, glancing down into the clear green of her eyes.

“Please, the light hurts my eyes,” she said.

Ryan laid his hand over hers. “It’s important that I check your pupils, Tess. The fall might have given you a concussion.”

She nodded her understanding and slipped her hand from beneath his. Ryan tried to ignore the twinge of regret when she pulled away.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a penlight. A quick check of both pupils told him that in spite of the light hurting, her pupil reaction was fine.

Perhaps a mild concussion. It didn’t exactly explain her extreme mental confusion, unless she’d been in an accident and couldn’t remember the details.

He crouched down in front of her. “Do you know what today’s date is?”

“Of course.”

He waited.

She tilted her head to the side. “I’m sorry. Have you forgotten the date?”

Ryan bit back a grin. “No, Tess. I’m checking to see if you remember. You might have a head injury. I’m checking your memory.”

The frown popped up between her brows again. “But I just told you that I know the date. Don’t you believe me?”

Ryan paused. He didn’t want to anger her or shut her down so that she refused to cooperate. He tried a lighter approach. “Any chance you’d humor me and just tell me the date?”

“July tenth.”

“Good. Now, can you tell me the capital of Rhode Island?”

A slight twinkle of humor entered those exquisite eyes. “You’re not going to start asking math questions next, are you? Because I’m really lousy at math.”

Whatever had happened to her, Tess had managed to maintain her sense of humor. He held up a hand in mock Scout’s honor. “I promise, no math questions.”

From across the room, Betty interrupted. “Isn’t that enough questions, Doc?”

Ryan glanced over one shoulder. “It’s okay, Betty. I’m not hurting her.”

“I know that. But you’re scaring her. I can tell.” Betty walked into the room, her dark eyes watching the young girl with motherly compassion. “The poor child must be exhausted. This is no way to treat a person who’s been through what she’s been through.”

“But that’s what I’m trying to determine—what she’s been through.” Ryan didn’t bother to hide the hint of irritation. Unlike most interviews he conducted, he definitely wasn’t in control of this one. But then it wasn’t every day that he had to conduct an initial assessment in the living room of one of his neighbor’s houses.

“Providence,” Tess said softly.

They both turned to look at her. “Providence is the capital of Rhode Island. And I feel fine—just a little hungry.”

The hard-nosed farm wife shot a triumphant look in Ryan’s direction. “Of course you are, dear. I’m going to make you a nice stack of buttermilk pancakes.” She glared at Ryan. “And if you’re done asking silly questions, you’re welcome to have some, too.”

Tess stood, the huge quilt draped around her like a tent. As she walked toward the archway leading to the kitchen, the quilt caught on the end of the couch, slid off her shoulders and fell to the floor. Seemingly unaware of her naked condition, Tess continued on toward the kitchen, her bare feet padding softly on the hardwood floor.

Ryan blinked and swallowed hard. Lord, give me strength, he muttered. A true goddess walked among them. A goddess with legs that went on forever and a body so magnificently flawless that his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

He tried not to stare, but he had a perfect view of her firm buttocks as she walked away. Muscle dimpled one firm cheek as she moved, and Ryan forced himself to breathe.

She turned to glance at him and Ryan struggled to keep his mouth from falling open. Her breasts were high and firm, and as her hair swung forward, each strand reflected an almost blinding sheen of white in the faint light. The fall of white gold fell over her slender shoulders and onto her chest, brushing the dark, taut nipples that peeped through the silky strands.

The fact that she seemed totally unaware of her nakedness wasn’t lost on Ryan. It was an unusual reaction and one he tucked away for later consideration.

“Are you coming, Doctor?” she asked innocently before turning and continuing on into the kitchen.

Ryan stumbled, getting to his feet, raising a hand to stop her, but he couldn’t get any words out. Damn. He had expected beauty, but this went way beyond even that. Way beyond.

A shaft of heat shot through him and settled deep in the pit of his belly. Sweat dampened his hands. He sucked hot air.

“Oh, my,” Betty blurted out as Tess brushed past.

A string of startled curses and the sound of chairs scraping frantically across the linoleum told Ryan he wasn’t the only male getting an eyeful.

He bent down and picked up the quilt. “If I were you, Betty, I’d find Tess something a little more permanent than a blanket. Otherwise, none of us are going to be able to concentrate on your good cooking.”

Betty snatched the quilt out of his hand and marched through the archway into the kitchen. “Close your eyes, all of you!” she ordered in the crisp tones of a drill sergeant.

Ryan followed, concern replacing his amusement. Tess might be beautiful, but her confused mental state and the hesitation in her speech worried him. If she was from the center, it would be a relatively easy task to get her back there.

But he couldn’t deny the small tug of regret that pulled at him. He didn’t like the possibility of her being a patient at the center. Patients came to the center because they had a long history of not responding to the more traditional medications and treatments. Most of their families had given up hope of them ever living normal, productive lives, and the patients came because they were desperate to try some of the more experimental, riskier treatments.

The thought of Tess, a vibrant, beautiful young woman, being one of those desperate individuals, unresponsive to other treatments, saddened Ryan.

If there was anything he’d learned over years of practice, it was that the results of experimental treatments benefited future generations, not the people who subjected themselves to it in the here and now. Tess might be a pioneer, but if she was from the center, her prognosis was most likely poor.

Washington, D.C.

“CALL FOR YOU, General Flynn. Line two, sir.”

General Thomas Flynn swallowed his irritation at the interruption and swung his desk chair away from his office window. He reached out and stabbed the intercom key. “I’m busy, Lieutenant. Take a message please.”

“It’s a Dr. Sidney Bloom, sir,” Lieutenant Sanders said, her soft feminine tones drifting musically through the intercom. “He’s somewhat insistent that he speak with you immediately, sir.”

General Flynn ran an impatient hand through the close-cropped iron-gray hair. It never ceased to annoy him that someone in personnel had taken it upon himself to assign him a female aide.

Not that Flynn advertised his prejudice against women in the military. No siree. He wasn’t a fool. He knew what the twenty-first-century army was all about—a dumbing down of the troops and a lowering of standards.

“I’ll take the call, Lieutenant.” Flynn punched the button for line two and picked up the receiver. “Why are you calling me here?” He didn’t bother to keep the anger from seeping into his voice.

“You asked to be kept informed of anything having to do with the project. I didn’t want to wait any longer.” Dr. Sidney Bloom’s cool tones conveyed his lack of intimidation.

Flynn reached down and flicked a switch on the side of the phone, the one that scrambled anything and everything that came through the phone. “What’s the problem? I’d prefer to keep any specifics out of this conversation.”

“My sentiments exactly, General.”

Flynn could hear the bristle of indignation in Bloom’s voice. From his dealings with him, Flynn knew that the doctor wasn’t used to being treated as a flunky. It brought a smile to Flynn’s lips. He couldn’t deny that he took a certain amount of pleasure in doing exactly that. He waited for the doctor to continue.

“Our subject took off last night. She knocked out a guard and escaped the grounds.” Before Flynn could react, Bloom rushed to add, “But we were able to locate her fairly quickly. Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to get her back here to the center.”

Flynn’s hand tightened so hard on the receiver that his fingers ached. “What do you mean she took off? I thought you had a handle on things down there. She’s supposed to begin her assignment in a week.”

“I realize that, General. Why do you think I insisted on talking to you instead of being put off by your trained seal in the front office.”

Flynn didn’t mind his own bias against his aide, but he didn’t appreciate anyone else making comments. “Lieutenant Sanders was only following my instructions. Why isn’t the subject back at the facility? Has she spoken to anyone?”

“Slow down, General. One question at a time,” Bloom said softly.

Flynn shifted the phone to his other ear and took a deep breath. “Don’t ever tell me what to do, Bloom. We’re paying the bills for your little research facility out there in God’s country. Without us, you’re just another egghead looking for funding.” He paused for a moment to savor the shocked silence on the other end of the phone. Nothing worked better than threatening a greedy research scientist with cutting off his funding. “Now that we’ve got that straight, why don’t you tell me what happened and keep it short.”

“Apparently her accomplice had a car waiting for them. When my men gave chase, they crashed through the perimeter fence.”

“Let me guess—you’re calling because your men screwed things up?”

Silence hummed on the line, but Flynn waited, his impatience building.

“My men were concerned they’d get away,” Bloom said, his voice rising a bit as he tried to explain. “They were forced to shoot the accomplice.”

“He’s dead?”

“Yes.”

Flynn sighed. “I hope you’re calling to tell me that they were able to take our subject back into custody.”

Bloom sucked air. “Unfortunately not. She took off across the field, and in the dark my men were unable to find her.”

“Then at least reassure me that your men were able to sanitize the crash scene before the local authorities arrived.”

Another long pause.

“Well, they had time to wipe the car down,” Bloom said. “But a local farmer must have heard the commotion and came to investigate. They were forced to leave before removing the body.”

A searing heat churned in Flynn’s stomach. “Wonderful. And where is the test subject? Has she been found yet?”

“We know where she is, we just haven’t been able to take her back into custody yet. My men tell me that she’s inside the farmer’s house. Uh, the chief of police is there, too.”

“How cozy. Do we know if she’s been connected to the body or the car?”

“Not yet.” Bloom paused again. “We do, however, have a more serious problem.”

Flynn closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Of course there was a more serious problem. He couldn’t expect anything less. “Please, enlighten me.”

“Reports indicate that the subject doesn’t remember who she is.”

Flynn came up out of his seat, his fist hitting the center of his thick green desk blotter. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He glanced toward the door, concerned his roar might have drifted out through the steel door into the outer office. There was no knock on the door.

“She has amnesia—no memory of who she is or why she’s there. My man says that she has a small cut on her forehead. She might have fallen or hit the dashboard of the car. It’s possible the recent drugs and programming have added to make the injury a little more than a mild concussion.”

“It’s possible? What the hell am I paying you for if it’s not to give me answers, Doctor?” Flynn forced himself to take a deep, cleansing breath. Anger ripped through his veins, heating his face and neck. If he didn’t calm down, he’d have a coronary right here in the office and never live to see the changes he’d worked so hard to bring about.

“Are you still there, General?”

“Of course I’m still here, you idiot,” Flynn snapped. “Where is she now?”

“One of my new doctors—someone not connected to the project—is out at the farmhouse talking to her right now.”

“Are you insane?”

Silence met Flynn’s question.

“Get the unauthorized physician off the case immediately. Tell him you’re taking over. And while we’re on the subject, why the hell do you have someone not connected to the project working at the facility?”

“Ryan Donovan is an old student of mine. A brilliant researcher and clinician. He finally took me up on my offer to leave Boston and come help me with some of my research.”

“I don’t care if he’s the Albert Einstein of medical research. It’s too risky having him involved.”

“But Donovan has done some interesting research that dovetails perfectly with mine. There are no plans for him to be directly involved in the project. He’ll continue his research without any knowledge of what we’re doing.”

Flynn rubbed the side of his jaw, unable to quiet the rumblings of concern from shooting acid into his already aching stomach. “I don’t like this, Bloom. I don’t like it one bit. Get her back under lock and key, and then call me. I don’t plan on losing this window of opportunity because you can’t arrange for the proper amount of security.”

“I’ll get back to you in an hour or so. Everything is under control.”

Flynn snorted his disbelief. “If everything was under control she’d be in her room, and you’d be finishing up the final touches on her programming.” He slammed the phone down.

Less than a week to go before the test subject was scheduled to perform her duty and she’d taken off like a jackrabbit on speed.

Flynn sighed and got to his feet. Walking over to the window, he stared down at the river and clasped his hands behind his back. Things were starting to unravel.

Perhaps he needed to make a trip to Half Moon. To really check on his investment and see if there was still time to carry out his plans. After all, the decision to control the destiny of United States politics demanded one’s full and undivided attention.

Chapter Two

Tess lifted her fork and bit into the syrup-soaked pancake. Sweetness burst across her tongue, and she sat back to savor it. She hadn’t realized until that moment how truly hungry she was.

As she chewed, she tried hard to remember the last time she’d eaten. Nothing came. No memory of food or any other interesting tidbit about her life floated to the surface. What she felt was a total void.

She shifted slightly on the hardwood chair, thankful that Betty had found some clothes for her. Strange, but until the moment Betty had put an arm around her and ushered her into the tiny laundry room off the kitchen, Tess had no idea she was naked. It was if her mind had lost its ability to register anything about herself. As if she’d suddenly become this clean slate, aware of nothing.

The jeans Betty had given her were too big, and none of the belts Betty offered had fit her small waist. So, she’d been reduced to using a piece of clothesline to keep them from falling down around her knees.

The T-shirt, one with a logo of a giant combine and Mid-State Farm Equipment lettered across the pocket was long enough and boxy enough to serve as a dress. One side kept sliding down, baring one shoulder, and she had to keep hitching it up. But the clothes were soft, smelled freshly laundered and rested smooth as silk against her skin.

She took another bite and then glanced around, surprised to find everyone’s attention focused directly on her. Four pairs of eyes held the same questioning look, but Tess knew she didn’t have any of the answers.

Heck, she couldn’t even answer her own questions, and things didn’t get much scarier than that. She was totally lost. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t remember anything other than her first name.

And even then, she wasn’t sure that was her name. It was simply the one that had popped into her head when Donovan had asked her for a name. But that sure didn’t mean it was the right one. She’d realized fairly quickly that no amount of trying to force the memories was going to help.

Even now, as she tried to pull something—anything—out of the confusion swirling around in her brain, a stab of pain shot through the center of her head. The harder she tried, the more it hurt. It was as if someone had done a nasty root canal on her without the required Novocain.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Tess, are you all right?”

She recognized the voice immediately. Ryan Donovan. The handsome doctor’s voice. She cringed inwardly. She’d barely met him and already she was thinking of him in terms of looks.

But what bothered her even more was the fact that he seemed to hold some kind of power over her—at least his voice seemed to possess that kind of power. The sound of it soothed her jitteriness. She wasn’t sure why but it unsettled her.

She kept her eyes shut, determined not to respond to those deep raspy tones with the velvet undertone to it. Something told her that if she looked at him, she’d be giving in, submitting to him in some way. And as crazy as that sounded, Tess wasn’t about to let it happen.

But as soon as the thought flashed into her consciousness, she questioned it. Why in God’s name would she think that a doctor, a man who insisted he only wanted to help her, was out to hurt her? He was a healer, held to a higher oath. Dedicated to helping people. Wasn’t he?

Finally, Tess looked up, steeling herself to meet his gaze, and she immediately found herself drowning in a sea of Caribbean blue. She bit her bottom lip, trying to keep her focus. His eyes were so stunningly blue that she found it hard to breathe. Hard to look away. He smiled at her and she felt as though she might melt.

It wasn’t a particularly beautiful face. Rather, it was a tough face, one that was in direct contrast to the velvety tones of his hypnotic voice. A face shadowed with lines of fatigue beneath beautiful light-colored eyes. A face with interesting angles and deep grooves in lean cheeks. The grooves deepened with his smile, telling her that things hadn’t always been easy for Ryan Donovan.

He leaned forward, his muscular arms coming to rest on the table, and his broad shoulders shifted effortlessly beneath the somber-colored cloth of his suit. His movements were graceful for such a big man.

His hair was black, thick and meticulously styled. An expensive haircut. One that spoke of a man who took care of himself and liked looking good. But in spite of the precision cut, several strands had escaped and fanned out over his forehead, giving him a slightly unruly appearance. A few shots of gray highlighted the sides. Not much, but enough to make things interesting.

Tess wanted to respond to the smile but she didn’t. Couldn’t. She recognized Ryan Donovan for what he was—danger. Someone to be avoided. The sooner she got herself outside his range of charm and potent masculinity, the better off she’d be.

She broke eye contact and rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to concentrate, trying to understand why her mind was screaming for her to back off. To be cautious.

“Are you in pain, Tess?”

Apparently Donovan wasn’t in the mood to back off, because instead of picking up on her unwillingness to engage in any type of verbal exchange, he was going to use that deep, whiskey-smooth voice until she couldn’t ignore him for one more minute.

She looked up again, and her chest tightened. She forced a smile. “I’ve got a slight headache, that’s all.”

“We need to get—”

Before he could finish, the phone rang. Betty reached over and picked up the receiver, cradling it between her shoulder and ear as she flipped the remaining cakes on the grill. “Hello?”

“Just a moment, please.” She turned and extended the phone toward Chief Cole. “It’s for you, Chief.”

The big man grunted and stood up, pulling the napkin out of the neck of his shirt. He grabbed the phone. “Cole here.”

Tess shifted restlessly, trying not to stare. For some reason, the beefy cop made her nervous, created an anxious flutter in the pit of her stomach. Whenever he moved, the gold bars on his collar glittered, sending off a blinding flash of light. She squinted, trying to hear what he was saying on the phone.

But she couldn’t make it out. The Chief talked low, darting covert glances in her direction every few seconds. Suddenly he straightened up, his dark eyes meeting hers across the length of the room.

He nodded. “All right. We’ll be right there. Don’t let anyone touch anything.” He hung up the phone hard, the receiver rattling in its cradle. He hit her with his best cop stare.

“What?” she asked.

He didn’t answer.

Tess swallowed against the lump of pancake that caught in the back of her throat. She fumbled for the glass of orange juice, trying to wash it down. It tasted like grit.

“Something wrong, Chief?” Donovan asked, his coffee cup halfway to his lips.

Chief Cole’s gaze moved over to Donovan. “Seems that this was a night for strange happenings. There’s been an accident out on the Plank Road. A car plowed into Bill Johnson’s cornfield—the one that borders Bud’s and is backed up against the research center’s fence.” He moistened his thick upper lip with the tip of his tongue. “The driver’s dead.”

From beneath lowered lashes, Tess watched Donovan stand up, towering over the table. Damn, he was tall and powerfully built. Concern etched deeper lines around those magnificent eyes. “Anyone else hurt?”

The Chief folded his arms, the leather of his holster creaking loudly. “No.” He turned, his cop stare back on her. “No one else in the car. Just the driver.” He moved over to stand next to Tess, his frame seeming to loom over her, his bloated belly inches from her face. “You wouldn’t know anything about that car in the cornfield, now would you, miss?”

Tess shook her head and took another bite of pancake. She didn’t know anything about the car, but her stomach was clenched up tighter than a fist. It took all her concentration to get the small bite down.

“I think it’s time you told us your full name,” Cole said, pulling a notebook out of his hip pocket.

“I—I’d love to.” Tess laid her fork alongside her plate. “Unfortunately, I seem to have forgotten it.”

Donovan moved to the other side of her, and he reached out to lightly touch her shoulder in a protective gesture. She could almost feel his concern, his compassion, radiate down through his long, masculine fingers. Welcome warmth saturated her shoulder. She shot him a grateful look.

“Don’t push so hard, Cole,” Donovan warned.

The Chief snorted. “Look, you two, I ain’t playing games here. I want her name, address and an explanation of what the hell she’s doing here in Half Moon.”

“You seem to think I’m trying to be uncooperative.” Tess paused, pressing the tips of her fingers to her forehead. Her head ached. “But I—I can’t tell you anything that I have no memory of.”

Ryan held up his other hand. “Back off, Chief. She isn’t yanking your chain. She really doesn’t remember.”

“Yeah, right. And I’m the freakin’ Pope. Give me a break, Doc. She’s playing you—playing all of us. That little nudie show was to keep us all interested.”

Anger surged through her, and Tess stood up, pushing her chair back so quickly it crashed to the floor. “I don’t have to take any of this.”

She started for the door, but Cole stepped in front of her, grabbing her upper arm. Tess struggled, but he had a good grip on her.

“You aren’t going anywhere, missy,” he said. “I want answers and I want them now.”

Tess stopped struggling and stepped in close. So close she could smell the heavy stench of old coffee and bacon on his thick breath. Her stomach recoiled in protest.

But she didn’t back down. “I don’t need this kind of harassment from you or anyone else.”

Cole matched her toe-to-toe. “Don’t sass me, little lady, I’ll—”

Donovan stepped between them. “That’s enough,” he ordered. “You,” he said to Tess, “sit back down.” When she hesitated, he gently spun her around and pointed to the chair. “Now.”

He waited until she was actually seated before turning back to the police chief. “And you need to back off. You’re not going to get anywhere with that tone of voice. If Tess knew her name, she’d tell you. She isn’t trying to hide anything, and you trying to force her to answer questions obviously isn’t working.”

Tess watched as skepticism fought for dominance on the cop’s ruddy features. No big surprise there, she thought. All cops and military types held that take-no-prisoners attitude. It was second nature to them.

She paused, her fingers tightening on the arm of the chair. There it was again, another thought that seemed to trigger a value statement out of nowhere. Did it mean that she normally distrusted cops and other people of authority?

“Maybe if she comes with me and takes a look at the crash site, she’ll remember something.” Cole grabbed his cap off the sideboard and slapped it on his head. “Let’s go, miss. We’ll take a drive out to Plank Road and see if you experience a sudden memory flash.” The last sentence dripped with sarcasm.

Donovan shook his head, signaling she shouldn’t get up. “She’s not going anywhere. She needs medical attention, Cole. Not the third degree.”

“I wasn’t about to whip out the rubber hose, Doc.” Irritation flickered across the Chief’s face. “You have to go by the crash site to get to Doc Reed’s. You can come along for the ride. That way you can make sure I don’t abuse the little lady.”

“I’m taking her out to the center. The facilities are better there,” Donovan stated.

Cole threw up his big hands. “Take her wherever the hell you want. But first let her see the car. It might jog her memory. Okay?”

Donovan finally relented and Cole stomped out the door.

Tess stood up, carefully setting her napkin next to her unfinished breakfast. She smiled at the Carsons. “Thanks for the clothes and the delicious meal. It was very gracious of you.”

Betty clucked her tongue and glanced out the window. Her glare of disapproval directed at the Chief’s back spoke volumes. “Ted Cole can be a bully sometimes. Don’t you let him push you around.” She shifted her attention to Donovan. “You make sure to watch out for her, Ryan.”

Donovan nodded and then stepped aside to let Tess go first. A pang of regret shot through Tess. She missed the feel of his hand on her shoulder, the warmth and comfort of those long fingers against her skin. Somehow his touch seemed to reach down and fill a cold, empty place deep in her chest.

And that spot seemed to get bigger and wider with each passing moment, especially when she imagined seeing a car in the middle of a cornfield. A car with a dead man inside it. She hid a shudder as she climbed into the police chief’s cruiser. Something told her she didn’t want to go anywhere near that car.

RAW TRACKS CUT THROUGH the freshly mowed grass leading up to the edge of the cornfield and then continued on into the heart of the field. The ground leading to the crash site was uneven, and Tess stumbled a bit as she skirted the broken stalks.

“Easy, Tess,” Donovan said, reaching out to steady her. “There’s no rush to get there.”

The corn on either side of them seemed to rise up and close in around them, creating a green chute. The raw earth smelled pungent, and a light breeze slipped through the rows, making a soft rustling sound.

“Are you sure you’re up to this?” he asked, his big body so close a whiff of his aftershave, something tangy and enticing, swept up her nose. She tried to ignore its effect.

“I’ll do whatever he wants. Just as long as he gets off my back.”

The car was about twenty or thirty yards in. A sleek gold Intrepid. It looked as if the driver had simply lost his way, plowed through a high fence on the end of the field and driven directly into the corn. Broken stalks were caught in the door handles and under the wipers. All the doors were open, and a uniformed policeman was rummaging around in the back seat. He ignored her.

For the first time, Tess realized the car hadn’t left the road and plowed into the field. The tracks they’d followed in had been made by a farm tractor, the farmer’s attempt to make it easier for the police to get to the site.

The car had crashed through the fence straight ahead. It had a huge gaping hole in it. Tess couldn’t help but wonder what all that lethal-looking metal fencing surrounded. Was it meant to keep something in or out?

Guards—private security guards from the looks of them—stood on the opposite side of the hole, watching the local cops conduct their investigation. One of them was speaking into a cell phone.

“Does the car look familiar?” Cole asked.

Tess shook her head. “No. But it’s a nice-looking car.” She glanced at the cop. “If you’re asking me if it’s mine— I have no idea.”

“Does anything about it look familiar?” Cole pressed.

“No.”

“Pretty convenient response,” Cole said, his expression sour.

“A fairly typical response for someone who has amnesia,” Donovan said. He glanced in Tess’s direction, and she could tell without him saying anything that he was assessing how she was holding up.

His concerned expression bothered her for some reason. She didn’t want him hovering over her, worried if she could handle things. She wasn’t some shrinking violet that needed a caretaker, especially not this sexy-as-sin doctor.

She turned away. She didn’t need him or anyone else. Trust was not something that came easy. Wait a minute. She paused and rewound what she’d just thought. Interesting. She wasn’t supposed to even know her name, yet suddenly she knew she was fiercely independent.

She smiled inwardly, savoring the knowledge.

“I want you to take a look at the body,” Cole said. “Tell me if it’s anyone you recognize.”

Tension gnawed at the pit of her stomach. “If I’m having trouble remembering my own name, what makes you think I’d remember some guy who is sitting in a car I’ve never seen before?”

“Humor me.” Cole pushed her up toward the driver’s side of the car.

The driver lay slumped over on his side, his head resting in a pool of blood, his eyes wide and staring. Tess’s fingers tightened into fists, her nails digging raggedly into the palms of her hands. Oh God, please don’t let me know this person, she prayed.

The coppery stench of blood seemed to fill the air trapped in the car and for a moment, she thought she might lose her breakfast. But she breathed shallowly, determined not to give Cole the reaction she knew he was looking for.

Cole reached around her and tipped the man’s face up so she could see better. Tess sucked in a relieved mouthful of air. The face didn’t strike any chord of recognition in her.

“Anything?” Donovan asked.

She shook her head. “Sorry. Nothing.”

“Any feelings of remorse? Guilt perhaps,” Cole drawled.

Tess met his gaze head-on. “I don’t feel anything, Chief. Zip. Zero. Nada.” She yawned. “Are we done yet?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she tried to gauge Donovan’s reaction to her staged attitude of callousness. She’d decided early on that it was better not to let any of them know what she was feeling. But with the exception of one dark eyebrow quirking upward, he didn’t appear anywhere near as appalled as she might have thought.

In fact, if she wasn’t mistaken, one corner of those magnificent lips twitched upward a touch, as if he knew she was doing her best to yank the persistent police chief’s pompous chain.

And for a brief moment, Tess found herself wondering what those lips would taste like, especially the full bottom one. The one with the small crease in the center that bowed out just a little, bordering on being almost too full. Too ripe. Not fitting with the overall toughness of the rest of his face.

She’d give anything for one small taste, and the thought almost made her burst out laughing. Whoever she was, amnesia obviously didn’t seem to put much of a damper on her libido.

“All right, I think we need to go down to the station and talk this out,” Cole said.

“She’s not going anywhere, Chief,” Donovan said. “We agreed to stop here on the way to the center. Your questions will have to wait until after I’m done conducting a few tests.”

Cole scowled. “Just make sure you don’t leave town before checking in with me.” He turned away, throwing one final threat over his shoulder. “I’ll have more to go on after the forensics people finish up with the evidence gathered from the car.”

Tess watched him walk off, unable to deny the tiny twist of fear that coiled in her belly. What if she really did have something to do with this accident? What if it wasn’t an accident but a murder? Would the Chief’s men find something to connect her to the man’s death?

“You can tie yourself in knots over this, Tess. Or you can let it go for now.” Ryan moved up to stand next to her. “Let the Chief and his men figure out what happened and then we’ll deal with whatever they find. Until then, let’s you and I focus on finding out more about you.”

“Sure, that sounds reasonable,” she agreed, deciding that agreeable was the tack to take at the moment. But she wasn’t foolish enough not to listen to the warning in her gut that no matter how honorable Ryan Donovan seemed at this moment, when things heated up, he would throw her to the wolves.

IMPATIENT, RYAN SHOVED the CT scan onto the view box and studied it. No big surprises. Her brain was uniform and the ventricles were normal, no sign of a bleed.

Not that he’d expected the scan to show anything significant, but he’d insisted Tess have the head CT anyway. He believed in covering all the bases.

He glanced at the screen showing a camera view of Tess lying on the table waiting for them to tell her she could get up. Her eyes were closed, her lips, pink and lush and lightly parted as if she were sleeping. There was no panic in her relaxed limbs.

The technician turned in his chair to check and make sure Ryan didn’t have any last-minute instructions before he told Tess that the examination was complete. Ryan shook his head and headed for the door leading to the examination room.

Inside, he hit the light switch and Tess turned her head.

“Everything looks good,” Ryan reassured her.

Tess nodded and jumped gracefully off the table. As she bent down to scoop up the striped cotton robe lying across the back of a chair, a section of her gown parted and allowed him to see the smooth glide of her skin and the line of her backbone. He’d never thought of a cotton hospital gown as particularly sexy, but somehow Tess had made it seem that way.

He jerked his thoughts off that particular track. Better to keep focused on Tess’s mind, not her body. Anything else would lead to trouble. The kind of trouble he didn’t need now or anytime in the future.

“So, no idea why I can’t remember anything?” she asked as she shrugged into her robe.

Ryan shook his head, trying to ignore the twinge of regret as she cinched the robe around her slender waist. “Not a clue. Sorry. But then I wasn’t really expecting to find one. I ordered the scan as a precaution only.”

“I take it that’s a good sign.”

“It is.” Ryan motioned toward the door. “Why don’t you go get dressed and have a seat in the waiting room. I’m going to go over the scan with the neurologist on call. At this point, I’m going with the diagnosis of a mild concussion. We’ll see what he has to say.”

Tess didn’t move. “Then why can’t I remember who I am? I’ve had a concussion before and didn’t lose my memory.”

“When was that exactly?” Ryan probed.

Tess tilted her head, those exquisitely clear eyes unfocusing slightly as she accessed the memory. “I was rock climbing and my rope slipped. I fell about ten feet and hit my head on the rock face. Got a nasty bump and a real shiner.” She stopped, and her green eyes cleared. She locked gazes with him. “How did you do that—get me to remember like that?”

Ryan smiled. “Your memories are still all intact. Something is just blocking you from getting to them.”

Her shoulders tensed, as if she was ready to rev up for some kind of unforeseen battle. “So how do I unblock them?”

“You don’t.” Ryan reached out and touched her shoulder, trying to impart some comfort. A zing of awareness shot through him, but he kept his face carefully neutral. “The more you try to force your way through the wall, the stronger it gets. You and I are just going to have to find a way around it.”

Frustration flickered in her eyes, and her fingers tightened into fists at her sides. “Why can I remember the fall but not my name?”

“Relax, Tess. You’re trying too hard. Let the memories come back on their own. You haven’t lost them—they’re all still there.”

She yanked on the belt of her robe, cinching it tighter. The tops of her knuckles turned white. Her agitation was clear. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who can’t remember if you like cream in your coffee or mustard on your hot dog.”

Ryan laughed. “Food jokes. Something tells me that you’re hungry again.” He pulled two doughnuts wrapped in a napkin out of his jacket pocket and offered them to her. “I happen to have these. I thought you might get hungry later. Want one?”

Tess accepted the doughnuts and slipped them into the pocket of her robe. “Not at the moment, but I’ll be keeping a close eye on them.” She glanced toward the technician’s booth. “What now?”

“Why don’t you go get dressed. When I’m done talking to the neurologist, we’ll go to my office and talk for a while?”

“Oh, so now you get me on the couch.”

“No, just a comfortable chair.” He flashed her an easy grin.

“I already told you I’m not in the market for a shrink.”

“Fair enough. We’re only going to talk. Decide on what you want to do next, okay?”

She nodded and then headed for the small dressing cubicle across the hall. After she was out of his sight, Ryan leaned down to pick up the sheet that had fallen to the floor.

“Where is she?”

The voice broke into Ryan’s thoughts. He glanced up to see Sidney Bloom, his boss, standing in the doorway. The light from the brightly lit hall silhouetted his stubby figure.

In spite of being a few inches short of five feet seven inches and on the plump side, Sidney never had to work to gain anyone’s attention. When he walked into a room, people sat up and took notice.

“I assume you mean the young woman I brought in a little while ago?” Ryan said, draping the sheet over the back of the chair.

Sidney nodded, his bald dome catching the light. He didn’t appear happy. In fact, he looked downright peeved. Ryan sighed inwardly. Only on the job a few weeks and he already had his boss breathing down his neck for some perceived infraction. Sad fact was, it made him feel right at home. Breaking infractions seemed to be his lot in life lately.

“She’s across the hall dressing.” Ryan cocked his head. “Who mentioned to you that she was here?”

Sidney smiled. “This is my facility, Ryan. I know everything that goes on here—especially when patients are admitted without my approval.”

“She sustained a mild concussion, Sid. She needed to be checked out. The closest medical center is over two hours away.”

The door behind them opened and a petite redhead poked her head in. “Someone in here request a consult from the neurologist on call?”

Before Ryan could answer, Bloom angrily waved the woman off. She shot a quick glance of sympathy in Ryan’s direction before closing the door again.

“I requested a consult with Dr. Adams.”

“You don’t have time to waste treating patients, Ryan. That isn’t why I hired you.”

“I thought you told me you were working on fostering good relationships between the center and the townspeople?”

Bloom’s lips tightened. “Chief Cole tells me this woman isn’t from Half Moon and isn’t cooperating with his investigation. How exactly is that helping the relationship between the center and the town?”

Ryan didn’t have an answer for that, but the fact that Cole had already gotten to Bloom told him that most of his avenues of defense were cut off anyway.

“I’ll take over the treatment of this patient,” Bloom said with an air of authority. “I want you to focus on the reason I brought you here in the first place—your research.”

The demand angered Ryan. He wasn’t about to ditch Tess right now. She was just beginning to trust him, and he had a strong feeling that trust was a major issue with this woman. Abandoning her now was more than therapeutically dangerous; it was downright unethical.

ACROSS THE HALL, Tess stepped tentatively into the small waiting area. The receptionist glanced up and gave her a chilly smile before resuming typing at her keyboard.

Hoping she wasn’t in for a long wait, Tess plopped down on the couch and grabbed a news magazine off the pile sitting on the coffee table. She restlessly started leafing through the magazine and stopped at a page. A picture of a grisly-faced man with tattooed arms stared out at the camera from between heavy bars. “Waiting For Clemency” was the title.

A quick skim of the opening paragraph told Tess that it was an article about a man on death row. Wonderful. Nothing like a little light reading to calm her already-jangled nerves.

She flipped the page and came face-to-face with a picture of the death chamber—a stark white room with a stretcher in the middle. Padded straps crisscrossed the thin mattress, ready to clamp some death-row inmate to the table.

Tess’s fingers tightened on the edges of the slick paper. The pages of the magazine started to shake, and a jolt of terror shot through her. A strange, searing flush blazed across the surface of her skin, and the page ripped beneath her suddenly sweaty hand.

Her head dropped back, bumping the wall. Her vision seemed to darken along the edges. Suddenly, it was as if she was strapped to the table and pain coursed through her body. The straps seemed to tighten over her bare limbs and she strained against them, fighting them. Her back arched off the table as the leather cut into her flesh.

She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. The magazine dropped from her nerveless fingers and her entire body shook violently.

“Miss!” A voice cut through the pain of the nightmare. “Are you all right, miss?”

Numbers, the color of shiny brass flashed in front of her eyes—5-6-8-7. They drifted and floated as if carried on a current of air. Hovering over her, Tess could see the outline of a small ghostly figure. Then, from somewhere far away, she could hear the roar of a crowd.

She frowned, straining to hear. She was seeing people. People cheering someone. Calling his name. She strained harder, trying to make out the name. But the cheering died away, and the corner of the dream folded and disappeared.

Tess opened her eyes to find the receptionist standing over her, an expression of concern on her tight, narrow face. “Are you okay, miss?”

Tess leaned forward and wiped the palms of her sweaty hands along the sides of her legs, trying to hide the fact that they were trembling. Her hair fell over her shoulders and hid her face. “I—I’m fine,” she said, her voice raspy and uneven to her own ears.

“I thought you were having a seizure,” the woman said.

Tess swallowed. Her mouth had become so dry that her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Speech was near impossible.

What had happened? Sucking in a mouthful of oxygen, Tess peeked through the curtain of hair falling over her face. She watched as the woman bent down and snatched the magazine up off the floor.

“I’ll have to throw this out. The entire article has been destroyed,” she said.

Tess grabbed the arm of the couch and levered herself up off the cushions. Her knees quivered, and she almost fell over backward. But she locked her knees and straightened up. Sweat broke out between her shoulder blades and ran down the column of her spine, pooling in the small of her back.

“I’m sorry. I guess I got a little dizzy.” She reached up and wiped a line of sweat off her forehead. “Please tell Dr. Donovan that I had to leave.”

Concern flickered across the secretary’s pinched face. Tess was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the fact that her face was probably the color of rice paper. More than likely the woman was simply worried she’d be somehow blamed for Tess’s sudden departure.

The receptionist touched Tess’s elbow with her perfectly manicured nails. The hard tips skittered across her skin, giving her goose bumps. “Why don’t you sit back down, dear. I’m sure Dr. Donovan will be finished very soon and you can tell him yourself that you’d like to leave.”

“Tell Dr. Donovan I got tired of waiting,” Tess said, trying to tamp down her rising hysteria. She had to get out of there.

The woman protested further but Tess ignored her, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. Her breath came in short pants. By the time she reached the door leading to the hallway, her shirt was plastered to her body with a fine sheen of perspiration. Amazing how quickly a person’s body went into hyperdrive.

She yanked open the door and stepped out into the empty corridor. She could barely breathe, hot air catching in the back of her throat. She ran the palm of her hand along the cool wall, attempting to steady herself.

Seeing the scowling secretary standing in the doorway Tess took off. Rushing for the front door, she felt her legs grow steadier with each stride. She hit the release bar of the door with an urgent smack and the door swung open. A slight tickle at the back of her neck made Tess glance over her right shoulder.

The receptionist was still framed in the office doorway, but now two men in dark suits flanked her. In spite of the fact that they were inside, both men wore mirrored sunglasses, their facial features frozen, unreadable. The woman whispered something to the one on her right, and he nodded, his head never moving from staring straight at her.

Tess tried to ignore the chill that swept through her as she turned and walked out into the warm afternoon.

Chapter Three

Ryan was more than frustrated, he was royally ticked off. Not only was Sidney Bloom telling him that he wasn’t permitted to treat Tess, he was outright ordering him to turn her case over to him.

It had been a long time since Ryan had felt the need to acquiesce to Sidney Bloom. He might respect the man as a teacher and benevolent mentor, but sometimes one had to step out of the shadow of the teacher. Ryan was sure now was that time.

But before he could speak, the door behind them swung open. Mrs. Mackie—the waiting-room receptionist—stood in the doorway, her face the picture of frosty disapproval. “I thought you should know that the young woman you brought in just left.”

“What you mean she left?” Ryan said.

“Just what I said. She got up and walked out.”

Bloom scowled. “Well, where did she go?”

Mrs. Mackie glanced in Ryan’s direction, an accusatory expression on her narrow face. Obviously, she didn’t appreciate her boss’s irritation and blamed Ryan.

“She wasn’t exactly forthcoming about her plans. When I tried to convince her to stay until you were done talking, she got quite rude.”

“Did she seem upset? Confused?” Ryan asked.

Mrs. Mackie stiffened. “I have no idea, Doctor. She was reading a magazine and then, all of a sudden, she started to shake and tremble so violently I thought she might be having a seizure.”

Concern ripped through Ryan. “And you let her just leave?” he demanded. “What’s the matter with you?”

Mrs. Mackie stiffened, her lips tightening. “I resent your tone, Doctor. She was angry, and I didn’t feel it was my place to wrestle with her. I notified the front gate as soon as she left. I knew they’d make sure she didn’t leave without prior authorization from Dr. Bloom.” She sniffed. “Besides, she’s your responsibility, not mine.”

“Damn right she’s my responsibility,” Ryan said, starting for the door. He glanced over his shoulder at Bloom. “If there was any question up to this point of who would be taking care of Tess’s case, I hope this settles it. It’ll be me!”

Bloom shook his head. “You’re losing your objectivity, Ryan. I can hear it in your voice. You can’t save every young woman who walks through the door as a way of making up for the mess in Boston.”

Ryan clenched his hands and fought against the swell of anger rising in the back of his throat. “My desire to help Tess has nothing to do with Boston.”

“Go ahead and tell yourself that,” Bloom said, “but you and I both know that you’re still battling intense feelings of guilt.”

Ryan pushed aside a twinge of self-doubt. “I don’t have time to argue. I’m going after her.”

He left, ignoring Bloom’s parting shot, “Don’t get in over your head, Ryan. I’ve already thrown you one lifeline. There aren’t any more left.”

LESS THAN A MILE down the road, Ryan spotted Tess. She was running. A wild, full-out run of pure, unadulterated fear. Her legs pumped madly, and her calf muscles stood out in sculpted relief, eating up the road with a long, graceful stride.

Slowing down, Ryan pulled up beside her, the passenger-side window down. “You always leave a place in such an all-out rush?”

She slowed and then stopped abruptly, her feet skidding in the loose gravel. He had to slam on the brakes to keep from sailing past her.

She bent over to catch her breath, thick strands of finely spun gold strands sliding over her shoulders to shield her face from him. She flipped it back and then turned her head sideways to glance at him. Tiny beads of sweat peppered her forehead and damped her hair along the sides of her face.

“Along with hating doctors, I’m not real partial to hospitals,” she said, her breath already calming. Ryan realized that she might not have any memory of who she was, but she was in phenomenal physical shape. A marathon runner, with perfect breath control and recovery.

“So pretend I’m a friend and I stopped to pick you up.” He reached across and opened the door. “Get in. I’ll drive you wherever you need to go. No need to hoof it.”

She didn’t move. The late-afternoon light hit the green of her eyes, making them sparkle and creating an odd tightening in Ryan’s chest. Damn but she was beautiful. Breathtakingly beautiful. The kind of beauty that took a man’s heart, squeezed it so tight it pounded in protest and never allowed it to return to normal. He felt as though she’d done that to him with a single glance.

Perhaps Bloom was right. Perhaps he was involved for no other reason than that he was attracted to her.

“I have no intention of going back there.”

Ryan sighed. “I’m not stupid, Tess. I definitely get the message that you don’t like hospitals. Personally, I think you’re making a mistake. But no one, least of all me, will force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

A tiny shimmer of relief flickered in the depth of her eyes, but it was gone almost before he’d noticed it. She worked hard to hide what she felt.

“Come on, get in. My place isn’t too far from here. We’ll go get something to eat,” Ryan urged. “We’ll talk. Figure things out.”

A small smile curled the corner of her mouth. “I’d like that. I’m starved.” She climbed into the car, folding long legs beneath the dash and snapping her seat belt on.

“I’m beginning to think you’re always hungry.” He put the car in First and hit the gas, making a quick U-turn.

She immediately stiffened beside him, her hand reaching down to unsnap her belt. Her other hand clamped onto the door handle. “I thought you said you wouldn’t force me to go back there.”

“Relax,” Ryan said as her shoulder went up against the door. He knew that she was two seconds away from throwing herself out of the car. He reached across and touched her arm, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the rush of heat that soaked through his finger and extended up the length of his arm.

“I said I wouldn’t take you back to the center. And I won’t.”

She shook his hand off, her eyes flashing distrust. “Then why the hell are we heading back in the same direction I just came?”

She shifted her body away from his and shoved the door open. Pavement rushed past. Ryan slammed on the brakes and the car screeched to a stop.

“Dammit, Tess, will you relax! I live on the same grounds as the center. I’m simply taking you to my house.” He leaned across, his shoulder accidentally brushing up against her breasts. He slammed the door, trying not to think about the fact that she was naked beneath the thin shirt and her breast had been pressed against his upper arm. He pulled back quickly. “When I said we were going to my house for something to eat, that’s all I intended. Wherever you go after that is totally up to you.”

Tess studied him, her expression wary. “You live here on the center’s grounds?”

Ryan nodded and eased his foot off the brake. He drove past the entrance to the center and headed for the row of houses farther down the road. “A lot of the staff lives here on the grounds. Dr. Bloom likes his people within easy reach.” He grinned, trying to put her at ease. “That way he can call us at any time of the day or night and he’s assured that we’ll be in our labs within minutes of his call. I was lucky enough to get one of the small cottages on the far side of the grounds.”

Tess was silent beside him, apparently willing to wait the ride out before deciding whether or not to trust him. Ryan noticed that she kept her hand on the door handle, her frame tense and her eyes watchful. He stepped on the gas, heading up the steep hill leading to his house.

WHEN RYAN CLICKED on his turn signal, Tess craned her neck and peered out the window, trying to catch a glimpse of where they were going. A sloping lawn led up to a neat Cape Cod–style house situated between two large oaks.

She glanced around. The only other house in view was another similarly styled cottage about a half mile down the road, screened from view by a stand of trees.

Ryan gunned the car up the driveway and rolled to a stop in front of the garage door. He turned off the engine. A single row of weed-infested petunias lined a small path leading to the front door.

He sighed. “I confess I’m not much of a gardener. But the lawn is mowed, and I promise that you won’t find any dirty laundry hanging on the furniture.” He opened the door and the car rocked slightly as he leveraged his muscular frame out. When she didn’t move, he poked his head back in. “If you sit out here in the sun all day you’re going to roast.”

Without waiting for her answer, he straightened up, nudged the door closed and started up the walkway. With a gesture of unconcern, he flipped his keys in the air and caught them in the palm of his hand. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard him whistle a bit before disappearing inside. He left the front door slightly ajar.

Tess gnawed on the corner of her lip, ignoring the building heat in the car. Where was her fear coming from? On one level, she wanted to trust him, but on another, the alarm bells were wailing so loudly her head ached from the sound of them.

She ran a finger along the warm metal of the door handle. Was she afraid he’d wait behind the front door, jump her and wrestle her into a straitjacket? She moaned softly and leaned forward to rest her forehead on her knees. What to do, what to do?

If she was so afraid of him, why had she gotten in his car in the first place? She could have kept running, headed off into one of the fields where the car couldn’t go. She knew she was fast. She could have outrun him easy.

Tess shook her head and sat up. Who was she kidding? She might be fast, but something told her that Ryan Donovan was faster. When she’d brushed up against him in the cornfield, she hadn’t missed the hardness of his body, the glide of smooth, well-conditioned muscles beneath the suit coat. It was a body built for speed and endurance. If Ryan wanted, Tess had a feeling he could run her to the ground.

Grabbing the door handle, she climbed out. A warm breeze cut across the field and ruffled her hair. She could take off now and he’d never know. Instead, she hit the door with her hip, and, as it swung shut, she headed up the path to the house.

When she stepped inside, the coolness of the interior hit her hot skin and she almost whimpered with appreciation. She hadn’t realized how hot and irritable she’d gotten.

She couldn’t see Ryan, but she could hear him upstairs walking around. She jumped when something cold and wet pressed against her hand. Glancing down, she stared into a pair of warm brown eyes. A chocolate Lab, his body wiggling with delight nosed her again.

“Hey, boy.” She ran a hand gently over his broad head, stroking the silky ears. “What’s your name?”

“That’s Jung,” Ryan’s called from upstairs. “He’s friendly. In fact, he’d probably open the door for strangers and invite them in if he knew how.”

Tess froze in the doorway, her cautiousness returning. But Ryan didn’t reappear at the top of the stairs. Instead, he continued to rummage around upstairs.

She edged her way into the living room, Jung close on her heels. It was a cozy and surprisingly neat room for a bachelor. An oversize stuffed couch that looked brand-new and two equally new-looking easy chairs occupied most of the floor space.

An ancient-looking cuckoo clock with an elaborate wood-carved design sat in one corner and a battered lounger was strategically located in front of the TV. Apparently, Ryan hadn’t been able to ditch all his belongings from his previous home.

“Contrary to the worn-out look of the La-Z-Boy, I swear I’m not the type who comes home from work every night and collapses in front of mindless TV sitcoms.”

Startled, Tess whipped around to find Ryan standing at the bottom of the stairs, a few inches away. His ability to get down the stairs and within inches of her without her hearing him surprised her. Something told her that her reflexes were slower than usual.

He had changed out of the well-cut, carefully tailored suit and into a pair of soft, faded jeans and shirt. In the narrow hall, his size was slightly intimidating. He towered over her, his muscular body pressing in on her, making her consciously aware of his size and strength. No weak academic-type body here. This man was built like a fighter.

He smiled and jerked his head toward the back of the house.

“Let me fire up the grill, and then I’ll show you around.”

Tess nodded silently, following him out through a small kitchen to the glass patio doors. The surprise was the presence of an in-ground pool. Invitingly clear water lapped the edges of the blue tiles lining the sides and bottom of the pool.

Ryan must have seen the gleam in her eyes because he asked, “How about a swim? You can cool off while I cook us some dinner.”

Tess shook her head. “No, that’s okay. I’ll help make dinner.” But her eyes lingered on the gentle ripple of turquoise water.

Ryan laughed and slid open the patio door. He walked over to the fence where a row of beach towels and bathing suits hung in the sun.

He grabbed a fire-engine-red suit and a fluffy beach towel off the fence and walked back over. “Here. It’s my sister’s suit. It should fit. She and her kids were over last weekend testing out the pool and making general pests of themselves. You can change in the bathroom—down the hall and to the right.”

Without waiting for an answer, he went into the kitchen and started rummaging around in the refrigerator.

Tess stood in the doorway and watched him pull a steak out of the meat drawer. He slapped it on a platter and then grabbed a pepper grinder and efficiently ground out a healthy amount of pepper on top of the red meat. He opened a drawer and removed a pair of grill tongs.

When he glanced in her direction, he raised an eyebrow. “Still here? I thought you’d be changed by now.”

“Your sister lives nearby?”

Ryan nodded. “She lives in town, across the street from my mom.” He turned around and scooped up a box of kitchen matches off a tiny shelf over the stove. “She used to live in Des Moines. But she got a divorce about a year ago and moved home to be nearer the family.”

“Have you always been close?”

Ryan nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We fought like crazy when we were little, but we were always close.” He reached into another drawer and pulled out a paring knife. “Does your family live near you?”

Tess shook her head. “My dad’s dead. He died when I was twelve. I don’t have any sisters or brothers.”

She watched as Ryan took a clove of garlic out of a basket and started peeling it. “Your mom still alive?” Ryan asked.

Tess shook her head no, mesmerized by the flashing of the knife blade as he chopped the garlic with cheflike speed. “She died five years ago, shortly after I graduated from college.” She swallowed against the dryness in her throat, unable to tear her gaze away from the shine of the knife. “My dad, he would have been proud of me graduating from college.”

“Where did you go to school?” Ryan asked, his voice casual. He used one finger to sweep the tiny buds of garlic clinging to the blade onto the cutting board.

“I went to—”

The cuckoo clock in the living room crowed and Tess jumped. Startled, she stared up into the intense blue of Ryan’s eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing all the time.

“You did it again, didn’t you?” she whispered. “You got me to remember without me even realizing it.”

He shrugged those big shoulders. “No real trick to it, Tess. You were simply ready to tell me those things. You weren’t even aware you were saying them, and that made all the difference in the world. In your head, you were simply sharing a normal, everyday conversation with me.”

Tess leaned against the counter and watched as he drizzled a few drops of olive oil on top of the steak. He sprinkled the minced garlic over the meat and rubbed it all in. She liked watching his quick, self-assured movements. Somehow they infused her with a feeling of warmth and comfort.

“I still don’t understand,” she said.

“The ease with which you accessed the information is a good sign. It means your memories are intact, that they’re simply waiting for you to recover them.”

“Then why can’t I simply recover them?”

He smiled gently. “It isn’t as easy as all that. You have to give your brain time to recover—to mend itself. The memories will come when they’re ready.”

He reached over and turned on the hot water, and she watched as he washed his hands. Hands that had manipulated the knife just as brilliantly as his sharp mind had manipulated her brain. Wetting her suddenly dry lips, she watched him lather on the soap and then quickly rinse it off. Intriguing man, this Dr. Ryan Donovan.

He shut off the water and picked up the steak platter. “Now go change and take your swim. I’ll put the steak on in about five minutes. Dinner in twenty.”

Before Tess could answer, the phone rang.

Ryan picked it up. “Hello…? Hello?”

He frowned and checked the cord. “Hello, is anyone there?”

He leaned in and checked the caller ID screen. “That’s funny, they hung up. The caller ID says the call originated from the center.”

Tess wasn’t sure why, but the hair on the back of her neck shifted and stood on end.

Ryan shrugged and replaced the receiver. “Whatever it was, they’ll call back.” He gave her a reassuring nod. “Go change. I’ll get started on dinner.”

Tess nodded numbly and backed out of the kitchen as if going to change. But instead, she made her way down the short hall to the front of the house.

At the living-room window, she opened the curtain a crack and peered out. The late-afternoon sun drenched the front lawn, drying the already-brown blades and heating up the driveway macadam. Cicadas droned rhythmically and a deep heaviness seemed to hang in the air. Nothing out of sync. Maybe she was getting spooked.

She took a calming breath and allowed the curtain to fall back. But then, right when she was about to turn away, the soft purr of a car engine caught her attention. Her fingers, trembling slightly, parted the curtain again. A black sedan, its grillwork flashing silver in the sunlight, motored past. The passenger’s side window was down and a man in a dark suit sat with one arm hooked on the ledge.

He turned his head, and, despite the mirror lenses of his sunglasses, Tess knew he was staring directly up at her. She dropped the curtain and stepped away from the window. She knew without question it was one of the men who had watched her leave the center earlier.

Her heart thudded against her breastbone and she wiped her sweat-soaked palms down the sides of her pants. She didn’t believe in coincidences.

A FEW MINUTES LATER, Ryan looked up to see Tess slip through the open screen door and step out onto the patio. She had gathered all that luxurious hair into a knot at the top of her head, and even though she’d pulled it tight, silvery strands shimmering in the late-afternoon light had escaped to dance around her face, highlighting her exquisite features.

He fiddled with the lid of the grill, trying not to stare. The suit, a little too big in the hips and bust, should have done nothing for her figure. Instead, her graceful, streamlined body, with its smooth glide of finely toned muscles, caused a tightening in his groin. The kind of tightening that told him his body was going places it shouldn’t.

Tess tugged at the top of the suit and smiled self-consciously. “It’s a little big.” She held up a string. “I took the lace out of my sneaker. Do you mind tying the straps together. Otherwise I’m afraid I’ll swim right out of it.”

Ryan managed a nod. The thought of her streaking naked through the turquoise water of his pool was almost more than he could handle.

She turned around, flipping the string over one shoulder. It lay against her smooth satiny skin, the end trailing along the upper edge of her shoulder blade.

Ryan had never noticed that his sister’s suit had such a low back, cut just above the sweet curve of Tess’s backside. His gaze lingered for a moment on the smooth, rounded curve of her behind and then along the straight column of her spine, up to the graceful sweep of her neck.

He slipped the lace beneath the straps of the suit and tied them, his fingers lightly brushing the soft skin between her shoulder blades. Her skin was smooth, like fine satin.

Beneath the tips of his fingers, Tess shivered slightly, and her head dropped forward, revealing the soft downy spot at the nape of her neck. Until that moment, Ryan realized he’d never truly recognized the beauty in a woman’s neck. How inviting it was. How erotic. How deliciously vulnerable. His mouth went dry and he felt a sudden tightness in his groin.

He shook his head, trying to break the unsettling mood that had captured him. Man, he needed to get out more. This was ridiculous. The woman wanted him to tie the straps of her suit and he was getting hot, obsessing about her neck. Get a grip.

“Do people from the center drive out this way much?” she asked.

“No, this house and the one just down the road from me are the farthest ones out. Even though the road circles around back to the main gate, no one drives the long way around. So, it’s pretty quiet out here.” He looped the shoestring into a bow while trying desperately to concentrate on the act of tying it and not the feel of Tess’s skin beneath his fingers. He wasn’t too successful.

“Who lives in the house just beyond yours?”

“No one. Bloom keeps it for guests—big shots he’s courting to finance pet projects.”

“Is anyone staying out there right now?”

Ryan paused and then pulled the ends of the string into a perfect bow. He gently turned Tess around. “Okay, I can tell you’re worried about something? Want to tell me what it is?”

Her lashes dipped down to shield her eyes for a moment, as if she was considering how much she wanted to tell him.

Her caution worried him. How was he going to work successfully with her if she fought him at every junction? If she couldn’t trust him enough to tell him the truth?

But finally she glanced up again. “I know this is going to sound paranoid and a little crazy, but a few minutes ago, I saw one of the men from the center drive by the house.”

“And that worries you because…?”

“Because I don’t like the thought of anyone checking up on me.”

Simply cautious or slightly paranoid? He wasn’t sure. She’d been through a lot and that could put a person on edge. “What makes you think he was checking up on you?” he asked.

Frustration tightened the corners of her mouth. “You told me no one was staying in the other house. Why would he drive by a few minutes after you and I get here? The car slowed down and he looked right up here at the house.” He saw a flicker of doubt cross her face as what she was saying registered in her own brain. “You got a hang-up call from the center and then this guy drives by. Don’t you think that’s too much of a coincidence?”

“Not really.” He put a hand on her shoulder, trying to ease the tension. “But if you’re feeling concerned about this, I understand. You’ve been through a lot these past few hours.”

A flush crept up the sides of her cheeks and she roughly shrugged off his hand. “Don’t humor me, Ryan. I hate when people play shrink like that.”

“Has that happened to you before—someone playing shrink with your head?”

Rage flashed in her eyes. “More than you’d know. They’re always trying to play around with my brain. Force me to—” She paused. Her head tilted slightly as if she were trying to remember something.

“Force you to what?” he coaxed.

She shook her head as if coming out of a trance. “I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it.” She walked over to the steps of the pool. “I’m taking that swim now.”

“Don’t overdo it,” he warned. Flames shot up around the metal grill. “Dinner will be ready before you know it.”

Tess nodded and hit the water with a sleek, shallow dive, the water bursting over her head and driving the air from her lungs. She glided to the surface and gulped air, and then lowered her head and struck out for the opposite end of the pool with a powerful crawl.

Her muscles stretched and contracted, and her body hummed with satisfaction. No paddling around in the low end of the pool for her. Somehow she knew that, even though she didn’t remember her last name or where she came from, she was a person who loved using her body and pushing it to its limit.

The mind-numbing repetition of doing lap after lap lulled her, giving her a sense of deep relaxation. Her brain seemed to stop fighting her, seemed to forget that she was trying to remember who she was and why she’d been walking in a cornfield.

She dug deeper into the water, the palms of her hands scooping the water backward and propelling her forward. The bubbles whispered past her ears.

When she reached the opposite end, she ducked beneath the surface and executed a perfect flip turn. The soles of her feet hit the wall and she pushed off and headed for the opposite end.

The crampiness in her calf muscles eased and she kicked harder, forcing her arms deeper into the water and reveling in the pull of the water against her shoulder muscles. As she tilted her head for air, she caught a glimpse of Ryan. He had moved closer to the edge of the pool to watch. His stance was relaxed, his expression contemplative.

Tess lapped the pool again, and this time she noticed that he’d moved to sit in the shade, sipping a drink. His steady gaze, with those exquisite blue eyes, was still trained on her. Her stomach growled, but she ignored it, determined to tire herself out before she indulged in food or anything else.

She swam on, numbing her body and mind with the repetitiveness and fierceness of her workout. At lap twenty, something started to niggle at the edge of her awareness—a tiny ripple of discomfort.

She swam harder, dug deeper into the water and ignored the voice, trying to drown it out. She executed another perfect flip turn and headed back toward the deep end, determined to regain the numb feeling she’d obtained at the start of her swim.

But she failed.

From out of nowhere, scraps of pictures flashed across her consciousness, all clamoring for attention. Disembodied voices filled her head. Frantic, Tess tried to push them away. She dug deeper still, drawing on untapped strength. But the images and voices persisted, beating away at her defenses and forcing her to listen. To see.

A fuzzy image of herself strapped to a table.

Pain ripped through her muscles. She floundered and, when she gasped for air, water rushed into her mouth. Chlorine scorched the back of her throat, and she reared up out of the water, trying to breathe. Trying to escape.

But she was blinded by the rush of water and wet clinging strands of her hair. Her arms slapped the surface helplessly, and she urgently tried to find the bottom.

No bottom. She was in the deep end.

She tried kicking, but her arms and legs had turned to lead. The water around her churned and roiled. One last try to reach the low end. But her body failed her, refusing to respond. She started to sink.

As water rushed her mouth, Tess thought how funny it was that she was drowning. An Olympic-caliber swimmer, and she was drowning in a backyard pool.

An odd sense of peace settled over her, cushioning and cradling her. Maybe this was the solution. Maybe she was supposed to simply let go and allow herself to be pulled under.

She stopped struggling.

Water closed over her head, and she sank to the bottom.

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