The Deputy’s

Lost And Found

Stella Bagwell

Her Second

Chance Cop

Jeanie London

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

The Deputy’s

Lost And Found

Stella Bagwell

Dear Reader,

Like the pages of a book, our minds are layered with memories and as the years pass we’re able to look back, read those pages and revisit the moments that make up our lives. Memories tell us the type of person we’ve been, point out our accomplishments and failures, and invariably guide the plans we map out for our future.

However, in The Deputy’s Lost and Found, the pages of my heroine’s memory are frighteningly blank. She has nothing to guide her, except the feelings in her heart. Can she trust them? And even more importantly, can she trust the sexy deputy, who’s vowed to keep her safe?

To find the answers, come with me and saddle up for another trip to Lincoln County, New Mexico, where the desert meets the mountains, old friends welcome new ones, and the youngest Donovan brother helps my heroine find her true home!

Thank you all, dear readers, and may God bless each trail you ride.

Stella

About the Author

STELLA BAGWELL has written more than seventy novels. She credits her loyal readers and hopes her stories have brightened their lives in some small way.

A cowgirl through and through, she loves to watch old Westerns, and has recently learned how to rope a steer. Her days begin and end helping her husband care for a beloved herd of horses on their little ranch located on the south Texas coast. When she’s not ropin’ and ridin’, you’ll find her at her desk, creating her next tale of love.

The couple have a son, who is a high school math teacher and athletic coach.

To my dearest sister, Thelma Louise.

The memories we’ve made together will

always be etched in my heart.

Chapter One

“The woman is turning into a pest, Hank,” Deputy Brady Donovan said as he steered the official SUV around a mountain curve. “Last week I told her flat out that I didn’t want to go out with her again, but she’s still jamming my cell phone with text messages.”

The junior deputy sitting in the passenger seat offered his best explanation. “Maybe Suzie has a hearing problem?”

“Only when it comes to the word no,” Brady muttered.

Groaning, Brady’s young partner rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Man, if I could just be you for one day I’d overdose on women.”

Brady chuckled wryly. “Trust me, Hank, a daily diet of females can be hazardous to your health.”

“So is starving. And I don’t want a diet of women. I want a feast. Like you.”

Brady tossed his partner a droll look. “I don’t know where you get your ideas, Hank. If you ever expect to be a good deputy you’ve got to do a better job at sizing up people.”

“Yeah. Just like you could size up Suzie’s figure?”

Chuckling again, Brady rolled his head to ease the stiffness that had been building in his shoulders for the past hour. “You sound just like my family. They have this notion that I’m a cowboy James Bond. Thrilling chases after criminals and making love to a bevy of beauties. They don’t understand that we spend hours on the road, talking about nothing, and wishing an antelope would cross the road just to break the monotony.”

Moving to the edge of his seat, Hank twisted the rearview mirror so he could study his freckles. “Cowboy James Bond. I wish. Maybe it would change my luck if I ordered my iced tea shaken and not stirred?”

“Damn it all, Hank, straighten that mirror before it snaps off. Or do you want to explain to Sheriff Hamilton why our vehicle needs repairs?”

It was nearing ten-thirty on a pitch-black Sunday night in August. For the past two hours Brady and Hank had been patrolling the southeastern corner of Lincoln County. Not a simple feat, considering the New Mexican county covered more than four thousand, eight hundred square miles and some of the roads were rough dirt, winding through steep mountains. But Brady and his partner both knew that if criminals were out to smuggle drugs, do illegal deals or rustle some rancher’s livestock, it would most likely occur on these secluded back roads. And there was nothing that Brady liked more than catching a criminal in the act. Liked it much more, in fact, than cozying up to Suzie Pippin on a cold night, or even a hot one, he thought wryly.

But so far this evening, everything appeared to be quiet. Another quarter mile to go and they’d be at Highway 380 near Picacho. Brady would be glad to get back on asphalt. Deep winter snows, followed by unusually heavy spring rains, had washed out huge sections of this particular road. He’d spent the past thirty minutes wrenching the steering wheel one way and the other in order to dodge deep holes and road ledges that were crumbling away to the steep canyons below.

“Aw, Brady, you’re no fun tonight. You could’ve let me dream for another minute or two.” Hank readjusted the mirror to its proper position and settled back in the bucket seat.

“You can dream while you’re in bed,” Brady retorted.

Hank sighed as he stared out at the empty dirt road in front of them. “Okay, I’ll put the dreaming on hold. When we get to 70 let’s head into Ruidoso. The Blue Mesa stays open all night and I want some coffee and maybe a piece of cherry cream pie,” Hank said as the SUV bounced over another rough spot. “No. Make that apple. With cinnamon on it. And some ice cream on top of that.”

“Forget it. We’re driving on to the county line. Sheriff Hamilton didn’t send us over here to eat pie. Or dream about women. Which is all you seemed to be doing tonight.”

“Hell, what else is there to do?” Hank countered. “This night is as dead as a doornail.”

Brady slowed the vehicle as they crossed a washboard surface in a road that had narrowed down to little more than a dirt track hugging the side of the mountain.

“Okay,” he relented. “After we reach the county line, we’ll head back to Ruidoso and—” All of a sudden, Brady stomped on the brakes and the vehicle skidded to a stop in the middle of the road. “Hellfire! What’s that, Hank?”

Sensing the urgency in Brady’s question, the other man bolted upright in his seat and leaned toward the windshield. “Where? I don’t see—”

Before he could finish, Brady rammed the gearshift in Park and jumped to the ground. Grabbing a flashlight, Hank quickly followed and lengthened his stride to catch up with his partner.

“Over there,” Brady instructed. “To our left. In the ditch. It looked like a body to me.”

The orb of the flashlight swung to a steep cliff covered with boulders, scrubby pinyon pine, juniper and tall clumps of sagebrush, then dropped to a white object lying in the ditch.

“Man, oh, man, somebody met up with some trouble!” Hank exclaimed in a hushed tone.

“Yeah.”

Before moving to the downed figure, Brady took a few seconds to assess the situation. There were no other vehicles to be seen or any evidence of a driving mishap. No persons or animals. Nor a sound to be heard. Like Hank had said earlier, the night was dead. Brady only hoped to God that wasn’t the case for the person lying several feet away.

“Call this in, Hank.”

To the onlooker, the two deputies appeared equal and for the most part they shared duties just as they shared a friendship. But during critical calls, Brady’s position of chief deputy demanded that he take control. Thankfully Hank was more than happy to accept the protocol.

“Right,” Hank replied. “An ambulance, too?”

“Let me have a look first. We might need the coroner.”

The other man tossed Brady the flashlight, then made a quick U-turn back to their unit. Brady moved purposely forward, his gaze surveying the body lying facedown on the rocky ground. The person was slender, dark-haired, dressed in blue jeans and white shirt and unfortunately showing no sign of life.

Homicides were extremely rare in the county. In fact, during his seven years at the sheriff’s department, Brady had only worked two murder scenes. The last thing he wanted was a third.

His senses on keen alert, he squatted near the body and, using one hand, swiftly slid his finger to the artery at the side of the victim’s neck, the flashlight throwing a narrow beam of light. The faint pulse fluttering against the pad of Brady’s finger sent relief rushing through him.

Behind him, the sound of crunching gravel alerted him to Hank’s approach.

“Is he alive?” the other man asked quickly.

“Yes. But unconscious.”

Very carefully Brady rolled the person to a face-up position and was instantly whammed with shock as he found himself staring at a young woman! One side of her black hair was wet with blood, while dried smears marked her forehead.

“Hank, get a blanket from the unit and call for an ambulance,” Brady ordered swiftly. “It’s a woman. And she has a nasty gash on the forehead.”

While the other deputy hurried away, Brady carefully searched her limbs for obvious broken bones or visible injuries. Other than the head wound, there didn’t appear to be any, but he could only guess what might be going on internally. Except for a crumpled tissue, there wasn’t anything in her pockets.

Hank arrived with the blanket and as Brady folded it to make a cushion for her head, the woman suddenly made a faint groaning noise.

Encouraged by the sound, Brady stuffed the makeshift pillow beneath her head, then questioned, “Miss? Can you hear me? Wake up and tell us what happened! Is there anyone else injured?”

She groaned again and Brady glanced at Hank. “What’s the ETA on the ambulance?”

“Twenty-five minutes. When it’s time, I’ll drive to the highway to signal them,” Hank told him. “Unless you’d rather me stay with her and you do it.”

Brady wasn’t about to leave the woman. Everything about the situation was screaming that some sort of foul play had taken place and he wanted to be around to make sure nothing else happened. “I’m staying,” he said bluntly.

“What the hell could she have been doing way out here?” Hank wondered aloud.

“I can’t make sense of it,” Brady responded. “She doesn’t look like the typical person involved in drug use or trafficking. And this area isn’t a national forest with camp sites or hiking trails for nature lovers. I don’t want to start speculating, but I’m getting a bad vibe.”

“Could be she had a simple accident,” Hank suggested.

“Yeah. But why did a simple accident happen in the middle of nowhere?”

“Maybe she’s been out hunting. Her vehicle might be parked on one of the offshoot roads and we didn’t spot it.”

“Maybe. But there’s no rifle or bow and hunting season is closed. Besides, she isn’t dressed for that sort of thing. Look at those cowboy boots. Small fortune for those hand-stitched babies. And she’s wearing turquoise—the expensive kind—on her wrist and neck. A robber wouldn’t have left that behind.”

“Hmm. That’s why you’re the chief deputy,” Hank said wryly. “You don’t have to study about noticing things. You just see them.”

Brady glanced up at Hank. “Walk the edge of the road and see if you can spot a wallet or handbag lying around,” he ordered, then, turning his attention back to the victim, he lifted her hand and patted the back of it. “Come on, miss, wake up!”

This time his voice must have penetrated. Her eyelids fluttered, then slowly lifted. Brady anxiously watched her gaze attempt to focus on him.

“Hello,” he said to her. “Welcome back.”

She stared blankly at him. “What—where … am I?”

Even though her voice was dazed and weak, Brady was relieved to hear her speak. Bending near, so that she could get a look at his face and official uniform, he explained, “I’m Chief Deputy Brady Donovan.”

“A deputy?” she repeated dazedly. “Have I … been in some sort of accident?”

“It appears that way.” He squeezed her hand. “An ambulance is on the way. Other than your head, does it feel like anything else is injured?”

Her free hand slowly lifted to her temple. “My … head is … pounding.”

“Anything else hurt?”

She closed her eyes and for a moment Brady feared she was going to lose consciousness again.

“No— I … don’t think so,” she mumbled.

Encouraged that she might not be as badly injured as he’d first feared, he asked, “Can you tell me anything? What happened?”

Confusion puckered her forehead. “No. I— Where am I?”

Brady pulled a handkerchief from his pants and began to wipe at the blood trickling near her eye. If someone had deliberately struck this lovely young woman, they’d obviously left her for dead. The idea sent a shudder down his spine. “You’re on a mountain road in Lincoln County, New Mexico. You don’t remember?”

Her eyes widened and Brady could see they were a deep gray, the color of a snow cloud on a stark winter day. They were framed by black winged brows and long thick lashes that fluttered like a silk curtain caught in the wind.

“New … Mexico? I—” She broke off as her trembling fingers traveled from her forehead down to her dirt smeared cheek. “That doesn’t … make sense to me.”

“Why?”

“I … don’t know! It—” Suddenly in a panic, she attempted to rise. Not wanting her to struggle and perhaps worsen her condition, Brady helped her to a sitting position. By now, her whole body was beginning to shake, a signal to him that she might be slipping into shock.

Supporting her with an arm around her shoulders, he wrapped the blanket around her, then tucked it close to her body to help hold in the warmth. “Don’t worry about it now, miss,” he gently instructed. “You’ve had a nasty knock to your head. Just try to relax and we’ll start from the beginning. Can you tell me your name?”

She looked at him and Brady felt something twist in his gut as he watched her lips tremble with fear and uncertainty. He’d never seen a woman look so lost and vulnerable and the protective side of him ached to reassure her, yet the lawman in him yanked those emotions back and ordered him to remember that his first priority was doing his job.

“I … no! Oh, God help me, I don’t know my name!”

Over the years, Brady had learned that people who found themselves in trouble with the law oftentimes conveniently forgot their identities. That could be the case with this gray-eyed gal, but he didn’t think she was acting. The shock on her face looked far too genuine.

Before he could decide how to reply to her anguished plea, Hank walked up carrying nothing but a flashlight. Brady rose from his squat to talk to his partner.

“Nothing, Brady. Maybe we’ll find something after daylight.”

With a pointed glance at the blanket-wrapped woman, Brady gently elbowed Hank in the ribs and the two men walked a short distance away before stopping to converse in low voices.

“She’s claiming she doesn’t know who she is or where she is,” Brady told him. “I’m thinking she has a heck of a concussion. It might be tomorrow before we find out what took place.”

Frowning, Hank glanced over his shoulder at the injured woman. “Yeah. But she could be lying. Especially if there was a drug deal gone wrong. By tomorrow, she might lawyer up and decide not to tell us anything.”

Brady’s lips stretched into a grim line. He wasn’t buying that scenario. He’d sensed something innocent about the woman. No doubt Hank would laugh at that notion, so Brady kept the opinion to himself. “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.”

“Is she Apache? Maybe she’s from the res.”

“No. She’s white. Somewhere in her mid-twenties, I’d say.”

Hank shook his head with disbelief. “Boy, oh, boy. And I thought this was going to be a boring night.”

Brady slapped him on the shoulder. “You’d better get down to the highway. The ambulance ought to be here soon.”

Forty-five minutes later, the ambulance had picked up the injured woman and carried her to Sierra General Hospital in Ruidoso. Brady and Hank arrived directly behind the emergency vehicle and followed the paramedics as they pushed the injured woman through the swishing doors.

Once they were inside the building, Hank said, “Guess we’d better give Admitting what information we have. But that’s not a heck of a lot.”

Brady’s expression was rueful. “We have nothing but white female. Black hair, gray eyes, mid-twenties. They’ll have to admit her as a Jane Doe.”

As Brady and his partner paused in the middle of the corridor, two nurses hurried out and ordered the paramedics to take the patient farther down the hallway. As he watched the gurney and medical attendants make a sharp left and disappeared from view, Brady had the oddest urge to follow. He wanted to see for himself that the woman was going to be okay, that the nurses and doctors did everything they could to alleviate her pain and fears.

The urge was totally out of character for Brady and made him feel foolish. He’d always made it a policy to never let his emotions get tangled up with his job. It was easier that way. Easier to go home at night and forget the victims who’d been battered or robbed or abused. As a deputy, his job wasn’t to fix personal problems, but to put criminals away so that no one else might be harmed.

Sure, when a young child was involved, there wasn’t an officer on the force who wasn’t emotionally affected. But the woman he’d found on the road tonight was hardly a child and what happened to her next shouldn’t be on Brady’s mind.

“Hey, Brady, you here on official business tonight? Or just to see your sister?”

At the sound of the female voice, Brady turned to see Andrea, a nurse who often worked the night shift in emergency.

“Bridget is working tonight?” he asked.

Brady’s sister was a medical doctor with a very busy practice. She wasn’t a hospital resident, but if any of her patients needed hospitalization she treated them here at Sierra General. If he could find her, he might be able to talk her in to taking over Jane Doe’s case.

The tall, blonde nurse nodded. “I saw her a few minutes ago. She had some sort of emergency with a patient on the third floor.”

Brady turned to his partner. “Can you deal with admitting her on your own?”

Hank shrugged. “Sure. Why?”

At that moment a male nurse at the front desk called to Andrea and as she quickly excused herself, Brady told the deputy, “I’m going to look for my sister.”

Hank’s brown brows pulled together to form a puzzled frown. “Bridget?” he asked blankly. “Why in heck do you need to see her right now? Your family having problems you haven’t told me about?”

Brady had two brothers, three sisters, parents and a grandmother. And, except for one sister, they all lived in the same house on the Diamond D Ranch. Among that many relatives there were always problems arising, but thankfully usually minor ones.

“No, Hank. No problems!” Trotting toward the elevator, Brady said over his shoulder, “And don’t run off to the coffee shop until I get back!”

On the third floor, Brady stepped off the elevator and headed to the nearest nurse’s station. But before he reached the post, he spotted Bridget striding toward him.

When the petite redhead reached his side, she looked at him with faint alarm. “Brady! What are you doing here? Nothing is wrong with the family, is it?”

“Relax. As far as I know everyone is okay. I’m here on business.”

Looping her arm through his, his sister pulled him to one side of the wide corridor so as not to clog the pathway. “Oh, I hope it’s not a domestic battery,” she said quickly. “I hate to hear about those victims, much less see them in the hospital.”

Removing a gray Stetson from his head, Brady raked a hand through thick, tawny-colored waves. “Actually, I’m not sure what this woman is a victim of. Hank and I found her on a back mountain road a few miles from Picacho. The paramedics just brought her in a few minutes ago. She’s had sort of trauma to the head. And I was … hoping you’d take a look at her.”

His sister frowned. “Isn’t one of the emergency doctors dealing with her?”

Brady felt like an idiot. The hospital was full of competent doctors and no doubt Gray Eyes would get the best of care. That should be enough for any patient. So why was he trying to garner her more attention?

“Yes. She’s … being treating now. But I thought—well, I’d just feel better if you’d stop in and look at her.”

“Who is it?” Bridget quickly questioned. “A friend? Someone we know?”

Shaking his head, he said, “Never seen her before. She doesn’t know who she is.”

Bridget started to ask another question, but at that moment, a small group of people walking past them called greetings to his sister, momentarily distracting her from their conversation.

“Sorry, Brady,” she said, once the medical personnel had moved on down the corridor and away from them. “You were saying—”

“She’s blank, Brita. Not her name, where she was or why. Nothing. And no ID to tell us.”

A thoughtful frown crossed his sister’s face. “A head injury, you say?”

Brady nodded. “A bad gash near her temple.”

Suddenly she patted his forearm in a placating way. “I think Dr. Richmond is on emergency call this evening. He’s certainly capable of taking care of this type of injury.”

“I’m sure he is. But she’ll have to be handed over to the care of a permanent physician. And she doesn’t know anyone and—”

Sensing his urgency, she released a sigh of surrender. “Okay, Brady, okay. I’ll take a look. But mind you, when her family steps forward and requests another doctor, I’ll be gone. Understand?”

Smiling with relief, he clasped a loving arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “Did you know that you’re my favorite sister?”

She shot him a tired look. “Yeah. Your favorite is the one you happen to be with at the moment. And do I need to remind you of the messes you’ve gotten me into? That time—”

“We don’t have time to go into my transgressions now, sis,” Brady interrupted as he urged his sister toward the nearest elevator. “I promise I’ll make everything up to you. Someday.”

The cubicle behind the plain beige curtain was cold and smelled faintly of disinfectant. Standing a few feet away, at the foot of the narrow, railed bed, a middle-aged doctor with dark blond hair and black rimmed glasses was scratching notes on a clipboard, while barking orders at the attending nurse.

Since arriving in the emergency unit, she’d been stripped of her boots and clothing, sponged clean and dressed in a blue cotton gown that tied at the back. The doctor had poked and prodded, asked her questions that she couldn’t answer and generally done little to assuage her fears.

Now that he’d ended his examination and was conversing with the nurse, her mind vacillated between sheer panic and a pit of total emptiness.

Scans. Sutures. Neurological tests. The medical words she managed to catch here and there made little to no sense to her.

Oh, God, who was she? Where was she? The questions pounded through her head, adding to the horrible throb in her right temple.

Thinking was like bouncing herself off a black wall where there was no door or crack of light to lead her either forward or backward. Other than waking up to see a deputy sheriff hovering over her, there was nothing in her mind, except icy, paralyzing fear.

She tried to push the terror back and keep from sobbing as the doctor exited the cubicle and the young nurse with a kind face bent over her. The name tag pinned to the left side of her chest said her name was Lilly.

“All right, miss,” she said warmly. “Let’s get some pain medication started and then we’ll see about taking you down to radiology. When that’s done someone will come around to put some stitches in your scalp.”

During the ambulance ride, the paramedics had started an intravenous drip. Now the nurse simply pushed a syringe full of medication into the tube already affixed to her hand.

“Why am I going to radiology?”

“To take pictures of your skull and brain,” the nurse replied. “Dr. Richmond needs to see if you have internal injuries.”

“Oh.” She didn’t want pictures or stitches, she wanted to scream. She wanted her memory back. “Will that take long? The tests?”

“No,” the nurse assured her. “They won’t hurt, either.”

She closed her eyes. “Um—the deputy who found me. Is he here?”

Lilly answered, “I saw Hank Ridell out in the corridor a few minutes ago. Is that who you mean?”

She opened her eyes to see the nurse was writing something on the chart the doctor had left behind.

“No. His name was Donovan, I think. He was tall and had on a gray hat and he had a little scar right here.” She touched a finger to a spot on her cheekbone near her eye.

Lilly suddenly smiled a knowing smile. “Oh. That’s Brady. He’s the chief deputy of Lincoln County. And considered quite a catch by most of the young women around here.”

The pain medication was beginning to course rapidly through her bloodstream, easing the pounding in her head. “Including you?” she asked the nurse.

Lilly blushed and laughed. “No. I have a boyfriend. Besides, I’m not in Brady Donovan’s league.” She placed the chart in a holder at the foot of the bed, then studied her more closely. “Did you need to talk with the deputy for some reason?”

There were a thousand things she wanted to ask the man, things that might help jar her memory. But that wasn’t entirely the reason she wanted to see the deputy again. He’d been nice and gentle. He’d held her with strong hands and soothed her with his low voice. At some point during their wait for the ambulance, he’d become her light in a heavy fog. She’d not wanted to leave him and now she fervently wished he was back by her side.

“I would like to speak with him. If you think that’s possible.”

Smiling, Lilly winked at her. “While you’re in radiology I’ll do my best to find him.”

The nurse quickly swished out the door and as she watched her go, she desperately prayed the woman would find the deputy.

Her world had gone crazy and he was the only person, the only thing her memory had to go back to. She was totally and utterly lost. And without Deputy Donovan, she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to find her way back home.

Chapter Two

More than an hour later, Brady and Hank were sitting in the hospital coffee shop, finishing off huge slices of pie when Bridget walked up to their table.

Shaking her head, she looked at the crumbs on their plates. “Looks like both of you are really worried about good nutrition,” she said wryly.

“Pecan pie must be good for you or the hospital wouldn’t serve it, right?” Hank asked.

“Wrong. But it looks delicious,” she said with a weary sigh.

Immediately, Hank jumped from his seat and pulled out a chair for her.

“Did you see our Jane Doe?” Brady questioned before she had time to get comfortable.

The doctor thanked Hank, then pushed a hand through her tumbled hair. “I did,” she said to Brady. “And I’ve become her doctor. For the time being.”

“I’m glad. So what about her condition?” Brady questioned.

His sister frowned at him. “I can’t give you details, Brady. You know that’s invading a patient’s privacy.”

Brady muttered a curse word under his breath. For the past two hours he’d not been able to think about anything except the gray-eyed woman he’d held in his arms. Now his sister wanted to act all professional with him.

“Damn it, Brita, just tell me—is she going to get better? Is she going to be able to remember? Tell us who she is?”

Bridget studied him keenly, and then glanced pointedly at Hank. “What has he done, had a love-at-first-sight experience?”

Hank grinned. “You mean another one?”

Normally Brady liked to joke. In fact, Fiona Donovan had often called him her most lighthearted child, full of happiness and humor. But at the moment he wasn’t feeling anything of the sort. In fact, he was getting a tad angry at both his sister and his partner.

Scowling, Brady muttered to the both of them, “I’m not in the mood for this!”

Seeing he was serious, Bridget relented. “Okay, brother, I’ll be straightforward. Your Jane Doe will get better. The good news is that physically she’s fine. She wasn’t raped, and aside from some bruising on her arms and legs she isn’t seriously injured. As for her memory, how long that might take is a question I can’t answer.”

“Are you kiddin’ me?”

Reaching across the table, she patted the back of his hand. “No. Medicine is not always an exact science. And head injuries are sometimes tricky. She might remember everything in the next few minutes, years from now, something in-between, or never.”

The picture of awful uncertainty his sister was painting hit Brady like a fist to his mouth. No matter the circumstances that caused the injury, the woman didn’t deserve this.

“Isn’t there something you can do to make her remember? Give her some sort of drug?”

“Trust me, Brady. If she doesn’t improve quickly, I’ll be calling in a specialist. But since she’s a ward of the county, cost has to be considered—there’s just so much the hospital will allow. And quit staring at me like you expect me to perform some sort of miracle. I’m just a doctor.”

Hank suddenly interjected, “Look, Brady, it might be that we find her ID when we return to the scene in the morning. Who knows, we might even find an abandoned vehicle in the area.”

Brady wished they didn’t have to wait until daylight to return to the scene. He wanted answers now. But the department’s manpower was already stretched across the enormous county. To bring in searchlights would be costly, time-consuming and perhaps even worthless in the long run.

“Yeah,” Brady agreed. “Let’s hope.”

Bridget suddenly squeezed his fingers and he glanced back at his sister.

“I almost forgot—she’s asking for you.”

Brady’s mouth fell open. “Me?”

Bridget’s smile was wry. “Yes, you. She wants to see you. I expect the meds we’ve given her will be putting her to sleep soon, so you’d better get going.”

Gray Eyes wanted to see him? The news didn’t just stun Brady, it pleased him in the goofiest sort of way and he hurriedly scraped back his chair.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, Hank.” Rising to his feet, he pulled out his wallet and tossed several bills at Hank. “Here. Buy Bridget a piece of pie. She looks hungry.”

He headed toward the plate glass door leading out of the coffee shop when suddenly his sister’s voice called out to him.

“Brady, where are you going?”

Frowning with frustration, he glanced over his shoulder. “Where do you think I’m going?” he asked impatiently.

With a shake of her head, she looked drolly over to Hank, then back to her brother. “I don’t know. There are nearly five hundred rooms in this hospital. Don’t you think you need the number to find her?”

If Brady didn’t feel like an idiot before, he certainly did now and he was glad he was standing a few feet away from the table. Otherwise Hank could easily see the red on his face.

“All right,” he conceded. “I wasn’t thinking. What’s the number?”

“Two-twelve. And Brady, be easy,” she warned.

A lazy smile crossed Brady’s face. “Don’t worry, sis. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s handling women. Especially damsels in distress.”

When a knock sounded on the door, she didn’t bother to open her eyes. For the past thirty minutes the nurses had been coming and going from the hospital room like ants on a picnic blanket. She expected the footsteps she heard approaching her bed belonged to yet another nurse who was there to take her blood pressure for the umpteenth time.

“Excuse me, miss. It’s Deputy Donovan. Do you feel like talking?”

The sound of his voice set her heart to pounding and her eyes popped open to see him standing near the head of the bed. His gray hat was in his hand and beneath the dim lighting she could see rusty-gold hair waving thickly about his head, tanned features molded in a sober expression.

He was a young man, she decided. Somewhere in his late twenties or early thirties. Handsome was not the word to come to her mind as she studied him more closely. But rugged and sexy certainly did. Sharp cheekbones, a thrusting chin, hazel green eyes and a full lower lip merged together to form one strong face.

Suddenly feeling as weak as a puny kitten, she cleared her throat and tried to speak in a normal voice. Instead, it came out raspy. “Thank you for coming, Deputy Donovan.”

A faint smile tilted the corner of his lips and her gaze was drawn to his mouth and the dimple marking his left cheek.

“My pleasure,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

That voice. It was her first memory of anything and she clung to it like a child with a blanket. “Lousy. But better.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Hopefully, you’ll be right as rain real soon.”

She swallowed as hopeless emotions thickened her throat. “Doctor Donovan was very positive about that. She … told me that she’s your sister.”

His smile deepened. “That’s right. We’re from a big family. We all live together in a big ranch house.”

Family. Parents. Siblings. Did she have any? And if she did, where were they? Nearby? Far away? Maybe she had no one. Oh, God, let her remember, she prayed.

Her gaze fell from his face and settled on the folds of her blue hospital gown. “No one here at the hospital seems to recognize me. I … don’t know if I have any … family.”

His hand was suddenly touching her shoulder and the warmth from it spread through her, easing the chill that she couldn’t seem to shake in spite of the extra blankets the nurses had spread over her.

“If you do, we’ll find them. Trust me on that.”

He sounded so confident, so firm in his conviction, that she had to believe him. Her gaze fluttered back to his face. “I can’t remember anything about the place where you found me. Was it near a house or anything?”

“No. The road is a back road that leads into the mountains. Ranchers use it to move their sheep and cattle from one range to another and hunters travel it during open season. That’s about all. The nearest house to where we found you is probably six or seven miles away.”

She shook her head with dismay. “What could I have been doing there? Was there a car? Anything?”

“Not that we’ve found yet. We’ll be examining your clothes and scouring the area in the morning. If you left anything behind, we’ll find it.”

She drew in a deep breath and let it out. She was exhausted and her body was screaming for sleep, yet she fought the fogginess settling over her. She wanted to be with this man a little longer, absorb the security he lent her.

“If I—don’t remember, is there much you can do to find out who I am?”

His fingers tightened reassuringly on her shoulder. “Don’t worry about that tonight. Everything is going to be all right. I promise.”

He was trying to make her feel better and oddly enough, he was. “I don’t even have a name for you to call me,” she said, then tried to laugh at the ridiculousness of her situation. “I guess I’m a Jane Doe, aren’t I? But please don’t call me that. I never liked the name Jane that much.”

His brows arched. “How do you know something like that without remembering?”

“I—well, I don’t know why I dislike the name. I just know that I do,” she said with faint surprise. “But I guess you’re right. Subconsciously I must be remembering something.”

Brady had never wanted to take anyone in his arms more than he did this woman at this very moment. She looked lost and wounded and utterly beautiful. And everything inside him wanted to make her better.

“See,” he said gently, “your memory will all come back and then you can tell me your real name. But for now let’s give you another one. What would you like to be called?”

One hand lifted, then fell helplessly back to the bed covers. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It must have,” he said with an easy chuckle. “You didn’t want to be called Jane.”

A tiny smile curved her lips and he felt instantly better.

“Well. That’s different,” she said. “I don’t want to be a Jane. I want to be someone real.”

“All right. Then I’m going to call you …” He thought for a moment, then smiled with satisfaction. “Lass.”

Even though her gray eyes were full of sleep, he could see surprise flicker in their drowsy debts.

“Lass,” she repeated as though testing the name on her tongue. “Why?”

Brady couldn’t stop his fingers from moving to her forehead and gently pushing a strand of shiny black hair away from the bruised flesh near her eye. Did this woman have a husband somewhere, he wondered? A husband that often touched her this very same way?

During the time the two of them had spent waiting for the ambulance to arrive, Brady had studied her hands. From a professional standpoint, he’d wanted to see if there had been defensive wounds on her hands or traces of flesh or hair beneath her fingernails from fighting off an attacker. From a personal position, he’d wanted to see if she was wearing a wedding band or engagement ring.

Except for a bit of grime on her palms, her hands had been clean. But that might not mean she was single. Her ring could have been stolen or she could have simply not been wearing it when she’d left home. Or not had one on for very long—not long enough to get a tan line or callus.

“Well, Lassie got lost lots of times,” he reasoned, “and she always found her way back home to her family. Then everyone was happy again. That’s the way it’s going to be with you, Lass.”

She reached for his hand and as her fingers curled loosely around his, her eyelids drifted downward

“Lass,” she repeated sleepily. “That’s very pretty. Thank you, Deputy.”

Brady was about to tell her that no thanks were needed, but at that moment the muscles in her face went lax and the fingers wrapped around his lost their grip and dropped to the white sheet covering her body.

She’d fallen asleep and it was time for him to go, he realized. Yet he lingered beside the bed, unable to tear his gaze away from the woman.

She was smaller than he’d first estimated, but her arms appeared toned and muscled. No doubt the rest of her was as fit, he thought. This told him she wasn’t someone who sat around all day. She either worked at something that required manual labor or she made frequent visits to the gym. Her hair was shiny and well cared for, the straight ends trimmed to blunt precision. Pale pink polish covered her short, well-manicured nails and her satiny smooth skin looked as though it had been pampered since birth.

She definitely wasn’t blue collar, he thought. Along with her grooming habits, there were also the earrings attached to her lobes. If he was a betting man, he’d wager the glittering stones circling the chunks of turquoise were real diamonds. A fact that only added to her strange circumstance.

If someone had whacked her in the head to rob her, why hadn’t the thief taken the pricey jewelry? No, something else had gone down with this little, lost lassie and he was going to do his damnedest to find out.

His thoughts were interrupted by a faint knock on the door and Brady turned from the bed just as his sister stepped into the room.

“I think she’s gone to sleep,” Brady said, hoping he didn’t look as sheepish as he felt. “And I … was just about to leave.”

Bridget peered around his shoulder at her sleeping patient, then back at him. “I’m on my way home. I wanted to see if she recalled anything that might be helpful.”

Brady shook his head. “No.”

“Well, it will come.” She rose on tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Good night, Brady. And don’t look worried. You’ve always been good at your job. You’ll figure out where this Jane Doe belongs.”

“She’s not Jane Doe. I’ve named her Lass and that’s what she’s going to go by. Until—well, until she remembers or we figure out her real identity.”

Bridget appeared amused. “Lass, eh? That ought to fit right in with our Irish brood. What are you doing, making plans to adopt her?”

“Damn it, Brita, that remark was uncalled for.”

Frustrated, he stepped around his sister and headed out of the room. Bridget followed closely on his heels and once they were out in the corridor, she grabbed him by the arm.

“Okay. I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I was only trying to lighten things up with a little humor. What’s the matter with you tonight, anyway? You’re as prickly as Grandma’s rose bushes.”

Brady sighed. He honestly didn’t know what was eating at him. He was thankful, very thankful, that he and Hank had just happened to be traveling the road where Lass had lain unconscious. If not, well, he didn’t want to think about the outcome. And yet, the whole ordeal had shaken him, affected him like nothing he’d dealt with before.

“You’re right.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he momentarily closed his eyes. “I guess … it’s not every day that we find someone left on the side of the road for dead. I keep thinking, if that was you I’d want someone to do everything they could to help you.”

Bridget rubbed his forearm with understanding. “I always thought you were too soft-hearted for this job,” she said gently.

A dry smile curved his lips as he opened his eyes and looked down at her. “Hell, other than Grandma, you’re probably the only one in the family who thinks I have a heart.”

Her soft laugh was full of affection. “That’s because they don’t know you like we do.”

Were his sister and grandmother the only ones who realized he was more than a lawman, covering his heart with a bullet proof vest? How did Lass see him?

Forget that last question, Brady. How Gray Eyes sees you is irrelevant. She’s just a part of your job. Nothing more. Nothing less.

The next morning, Brady and Hank and two other deputies returned to the mountain road near Picacho to search the area for clues. Thankfully, the day was bright and no rain had fallen during the night to wash away evidence. But unfortunately, they found nothing, except a crumpled betting ticket from Ruidoso Downs Racetrack. The twenty-dollar bet, found lying against a clump of sage, about a hundred yards down the road from Lass, had been for a trifecta on the fifth race of yesterday’s card. After a quick call to the track, Brady had learned that the ticket was worthless, so there was no other record of it.

But the money, or lack of it, was inconsequential at the moment, Brady figured. The main question was why the ticket was here on this back road where there was nothing but wilderness? Had a group of party-goers from the track driven out here just to find an isolated place to whoop it up? Teenagers might do something that foolish. But teenagers couldn’t wager. And Lass wasn’t a teen.

None of it made sense to Brady or his partner as they exchanged speculations.

“Maybe Lass was at the track yesterday and the ticket fell out of her pocket when she whammed her head,” Hank said as the two men stood in the middle of the quiet dirt road.

“Or when someone whammed it for her,” Brady said grimly. “We’ll post a few pictures of her at the track. We might get lucky and one of the clerks working the betting cages will recognize her.”

Last night, after Brady and Hank had left the hospital, they’d driven the thirty-mile trip to their headquarters in Carrizozo to finish the remainder of their shift. Before he’d gone home, Brady had looked through as many missing cases that could possibly be tied to the area and he’d come up with nothing that matched Lass’s description. No calls had come in to the sheriff’s office reporting anyone missing. Nor had there been any calls for domestic disputes, robberies or assaults. Other than the incident with Lass, the only thing that had gone on was a few public intoxication and DUI arrests. Like Hank had said, last night had been as quiet as a sleeping cat.

This morning, after a lengthy meeting, Sheriff Hamilton had turned the entire case over to Brady and now as he scanned the rough terrain beyond the smoky lens of his sunglasses, he was feeling a heavy weight on his shoulders. For years now, Ethan Hamilton had been his mentor, even his hero. He never wanted to let the man down. Yet incredibly, it was Lass and her pleading face that was weighing on him the most.

Hank’s voice suddenly interrupted Brady’s deep thoughts. “It’s too bad we couldn’t have found her in the daylight. We might have been able to pick up on more footprints. Looks like most of them were blown away with last night’s wind.”

“No one ever said our job was supposed to be easy,” Brady replied as he continued to study the area around them.

The trees and vegetation weren’t exactly thick, but there was enough juniper and pine for a person to hide or get lost in. Not that either scenario applied to Lass, he thought. But his gut feeling kept telling him that she’d come out of the mountains and then ended up at the road’s edge, rather than the other way around.

“I think I’ll have a talk with Johnny Chino and see if he’ll come have a look at things,” Brady said after a moment. “It might help us to know what direction Lass came from before she ended up in the ditch.”

Hank tossed him a skeptical glance. “Good luck. Johnny hasn’t done any tracking since—well, not for years.”

Brady sighed. The Apache tracker was one of the best. But for a long time now the man had turned his back on a job that had once taken him all over the southwest. Brady didn’t exactly know what sort of personal demons the tracker was carrying around, but he figured working again would be the best way for Johnny to get rid of them.

“He might do it for me. We’ve been friends since we were kids.”

“Like I said, good luck,” Hank muttered.

She was running through inky darkness. Stumbling over rocks and fallen branches. Her breaths were gasps of fire, burning her lungs and stabbing her chest with searing pain. Somewhere, far in front of her, she would find light and safety. If only she could keep running. If only …

“Lass? It’s Dr. Donovan. Wake up and talk with me.”

The firm voice penetrated the dark terror around her and Lass jerked awake with a jolt to see Deputy Donovan’s sister standing next to her bed.

“Oh! It’s you, Doctor.” Shoving a handful of disheveled hair off her face, Lass eased to a sitting position in the bed and blinked her eyes. Her whole body felt damp and her heart was pounding with lingering fear. “I guess I dozed off. I must have been dreaming or maybe I was trying to remember—I don’t know.”

The redheaded doctor studied her closely. “Do you remember your dream?”

Nodding, Lass shivered. “I was running in the dark. Away from something. And I was terrified. That’s all I know.”

The doctor pulled out a pin light and flashed it in both of Lass’s eyes. “Mmm. That’s a common nightmare. It could be a result of the trauma you’ve gone through or you could be remembering something that happened. Hard to say. In any case, I’m happy to report that your scans have been read and there are no fractures to your skull or any other major brain damage. You have a garden variety concussion and it should go away in the next few days. And it’s a positive sign to see that your short-term memory is working. You obviously remember that I’m your doctor and you remembered your dream.”

The doctor put the pin light away and placed a stethoscope to Lass’s chest. Once she’d listened to her satisfaction, then hung the instrument back around her neck, Lass asked, “What about the rest of my memory? I keep working my mind, trying to think past last night. I can’t.”

The doctor gently patted her shoulder. “I’m hopeful that once the swelling in your brain starts to recede and everything begins to heal itself, your memory will return. But in the meantime, I’m going to have a specialist come in this afternoon and speak with you.”

“A specialist?” Lass asked warily. “What kind of specialist?”

Dr. Donovan’s smile was meant to be reassuring. “A psychiatrist.”

Lass stared at her in horror. “Do you … think I’m crazy? Oh, God, I never thought about that! I might have been institutionalized and wandered away. Maybe I hurt someone and they put me away! I—”

With each word that passed her lips, Lass grew more and more agitated.

“Lass,” the doctor said gently. “You need to stop this. I can assure you that no one here has detected any sort of mental illness. The psychiatrist will simply talk to you and perhaps help coax some of your memories to return. That’s all.”

Lass’s shoulders slumped with relief. She didn’t know why her thoughts kept running toward such negative speculations. Had she been in some sort of trouble? Criminal trouble?

What a stupid question, Lass. Trouble might as well be written across your forehead. Anyone who’s found on the side of the road with a head bashed is bound to be connected to some sort of trouble. What do you think you were doing out there in the mountains in the middle of the night? Admiring the wildflowers?

Swallowing, she forced the troubling questions aside and tried to focus on the doctor. “So—how much longer will I have to be in the hospital?” she asked.

“If no complications pop up, I’ll be releasing you tomorrow.” Dr. Donovan smiled with encouragement. “As for this morning, the nurses are going to come in and help you shower and dress. And if you’re steady enough on your feet, you can move around somewhat. But I don’t want you overdoing it, okay?”

Lass agreed and the doctor continued to give her a few more orders before she finally said goodbye and left the room.

Once she was gone, Lass let out a heavy sigh as her gaze surveyed her surroundings. For the moment, the small, stark room was her home. But tomorrow she’d be leaving. To where? Where was her home? Oh, God, if she only knew.

Chapter Three

Later that afternoon while Hank questioned workers at the racetrack, Brady drove to the hospital to check on Lass. From the report Bridget had given him earlier this morning, the young woman’s memory was still a blank. But he was hoping each hour that passed would bring her closer to recalling her identity and, moreover, what had happened to her the night before.

On the second floor, he stepped off the elevator and turned right in the direction of Lass’s room, but before he could get past the nurse’s desk, a young woman with long brown hair wrapped in a knot atop her head waved and called to him.

“Hey, Brady! Are you going to the concert next weekend at the rodeo arena?”

He paused as the nurse came rushing up to him. Miranda was a sweet girl he’d once dated a few times, but it had quickly become obvious to both of them that she’d wanted more than just a good time together. Thankfully, she’d understood that he wasn’t looking for a permanent partner and they’d parted on friendly terms.

He shook his head. “Not unless I have to provide security. And right now the city police are planning on handling it.”

With Lass’s case thrown on his plate, he wasn’t going to have much free time in the coming days. Unless, she miraculously recovered, or someone showed up to identify her.

“Guess you’re busy with the Jane Doe thing,” she commented. “I think I ought to tell you that most of the hospital stopped by to see her. We’d been hoping someone would recognize her, but nobody does.”

“Thanks for letting me know, Miranda. I appreciate the attempt.”

Miranda grimaced with regret. “Poor thing. And she’s so pretty, too. What will happen to her? I mean, if she doesn’t remember? I guess she’ll have to go to one of those shelters.” Miranda shuddered with distaste. “Maybe you’ll figure it out, Brady, before that happens.”

He nodded and she quickly excused herself as the phone on the nurse’s desk began to shrill loudly. Brady hurried on to Lass’s room and as he went, Miranda’s suggestion plagued him. To think of Lass thrown in a rescue mission or a shelter for battered women sickened him. And whether she remembered or not, he couldn’t let it happen.

After a short knock on her door, he stepped inside the room and was pleasantly surprised to find her dressed and sitting in a cushioned chair positioned near the room’s only window.

“Well, you look much better than the last time I saw you,” he greeted. “How are you feeling?”

She was wearing the clothes he’d found her in and though they were smudged with dirt in spots, they made her look far more normal than the hideous hospital gown. Her long hair had been pulled back from her face and fastened at her nape with a rubber band. The style exposed her swollen eye yet at the same time revealed the long, lovely line of her neck.

“Stronger,” she answered. “And my head doesn’t hurt nearly as much.”

He moved across the room, then stopped a couple of feet from her chair. The late afternoon sun slanted a golden ray across her lap and cast a sheen to her crow-black hair. Except for her cheeks, her skin was as pale as milk and he found himself tempering the urge to reach over and touch it, test its softness with the pads of his fingers.

Clearing his throat, he said, “That’s good. Bridget says you’re on the mend.”

Her features tightened. “Did she also tell you that she sent a psychiatrist to talk with me?”

Brady looked at her in surprise. “No. But I’m glad. I told her to help you in every way that she could. Obviously she’s not going to leave any stone unturned.” He took a seat on the edge of the narrow bed. “So what did the psychiatrist have to say?”

She rubbed her hands nervously down the thighs of her jeans. “Well, that I’m not crazy or anything like that.”

Brady grinned. “I could have told you that much.”

She darted a sober glance at him. “He also said that I might not be remembering because I’m afraid to remember.”

Folding his arms against his chest, Brady studied her with interest. “Like a psychosomatic thing,” he said.

Her brows arched with surprise. “Why, yes. How did you know that? Have you studied medicine, too?”

Brady chuckled. “No. I left that to my sisters. I’m a lawman. I study human characters. And believe me, seeing people under stress and in trouble makes for a good psychology class.”

Dropping her head, she let out a heavy breath. “Well, I’ve not remembered anything. Unless you count the dream I had. And that didn’t tell me much. Except that I was running in the dark and whatever was behind me was scaring the living daylights out of me.” She looked up at him, her expression twisted with something close to agony. “Your sister says she’s going to release me from the hospital tomorrow. What does that mean, Deputy Donovan? What will happen to me then?”

He swiftly shook his head. “I’d be pleased if you’d call me Brady. And don’t worry—we’ll find some place nice for you to stay until we can get a fix on where you really belong.”

Suddenly it dawned on him that she had nothing but the clothes on her back. No handbag with all the little necessities women carried with them. No cell phone filled with numbers of friends and family that she might call for help. No credit cards or checkbook or any sort of means to provide for herself. She was totally dependent and, at the moment, looking straight at him for answers.

She didn’t make any sort of reply to his comment and Brady figured there wasn’t much she could say. She was at the mercy of the county and what it could provide for her. Unless he stepped in, he thought, as his mind suddenly jumped forward. Since his older sister, Maura, had married Quint Cantrell, her room had become empty. Brady’s home, the Diamond D Ranch, was a huge place with plenty of space for a guest. What would his family think if he showed up with Lass? He and his sister Dallas had always been guilty of picking up strays that needed a home. Well, Lass was no different, he rationalized. She needed a home in the worst kind of way.

“Thank you, Brady. I guess … Well, you know the old saying—beggars can’t be choosers. I’m obviously in that position now.”

Changing the subject for the moment, he suddenly asked, “Did someone from the sheriff’s department come by to take your picture?”

She nodded. “Yes. A lady. She said you were going to be putting it on posters around town and posting it on the Internet.”

“That’s right. We also plan to put it in the area papers. See if that will turn up any leads. But in the meantime, you’ll need some help. A place to stay, clothes and things like that. I’m thinking—” His gaze zeroed in on hers. “How would you feel about staying at my home? Until we get your problem worked out?”

Her gray eyes narrowed with something like mistrust. “I don’t understand. I’m not your responsibility. I mean, I know that you and your partner are the ones who found me, but that doesn’t mean—”

She broke off as he quickly shook his head. “Look, Lass, I’ll be frank. I don’t think you’d much like living in a shelter. You wouldn’t have much privacy and some of the women there—they’re dealing with some pretty bad problems.”

Her lips quivered. “And I’m not?”

He tried to give her the same sort of smile Brady’s mother gave him when he was fretting over an issue that was beyond his control. “As of right now, Lass, the only problem we’re certain that you have is amnesia. And the way I see it, you could’ve had a whole lot worse things happen to you.”

“Maybe I did. And we just don’t know. Maybe I’d bring trouble to your family and—” Her words abruptly trailing off, she shook her head and rose slowly from her chair. “I don’t want to be a burden or a … problem. Thank you for your kind offer, Brady, but I can’t accept.”

Feeling ridiculously squashed, he watched her move to the window and stare out at the small manicured lawn at the back of the building. To one side of the grassy area, a patio had been constructed and offered a group of comfortable lawn chairs to visitors who needed a break from the confines of a sterile hospital room.

At the moment a young woman with two small children in hand was strolling among the potted desert plants that adorned the patio. Lass appeared to be focused on the sight of the playful youngsters and Brady wondered if she might have children of her own, children that were missing their mother. For some reason he didn’t like the image of her being a mother, or a wife. And yet, he realized that if she did have a family waiting for her somewhere, she needed to get back to them as quickly as possible. More importantly, it was his job to see that she was reunited with her loved ones.

“I assure you, Lass, you’re not going to cause trouble. And even if you did, we Donovans know how to deal with trouble. Besides, you being on the ranch would be a big help to me.”

A frown puckered her forehead as she pulled her attention away from the children and over to him. “Really? How is that?”

“Well, until we discover your identity, you’re going to have to keep in close contact with the sheriff’s department. Since I’m in charge of your case that means me. And having you on the Diamond D will make it convenient for the two of us to work together.” “The Diamond D,” she repeated thoughtfully. “I think I recall you saying last night that you lived on a ranch. Your family raises cattle?”

“Horses,” he explained. “Racehorses.”

“Oh.” The frown on her face deepened. “What do you do with racehorses around here? The nurses tell me that this is a relatively small town. Most of the major tracks are on the east and west coasts.”

Rising from the bed, he joined her at the window. As he rested his hip on the wide seal, he studied her keenly. “If you remember such things as that, then apparently a part of your memory is working. As for our horses, we—or I should say my brother Liam—hauls them cross-country to race. But Ruidoso has a track and it’s becoming significant in its own right. It’s the home of the Million Dollar Futurity that takes place every Labor Day.”

“I see,” she murmured, then thoughtfully shook her head. “I wonder why I knew about the major tracks? Perhaps I’m connected to the business in some way. But I’m … only guessing. It’s just a feeling I have. Not a memory.”

Brady’s mind was leaping in all direction as he attempted to connect what dots he had. “I don’t know if this means anything, Lass, but one of the deputies found a wagering ticket from Ruidoso Downs not far from where you were found. The track, betting, horses—do any of those things ring a bell?”

She stared out the window for long moments, then with a groan of defeat, pressed a hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry, Brady. When I try to think of anything personal, it’s all a blank. And the harder I try to think, the more my head aches.”

“Then don’t try to think,” he urged with concern. “Bridget would have my hide if she found out I’m making your condition worse.”

Quickly, as though to reassure him, she reached out and touched his arm. “It’s not your fault. Please don’t think so. You’re only trying to help me.”

The touch of her hand on his bare forearm was as light as a butterfly and though her fingers were cool, Brady’s reaction was just the opposite. Heat flowed along his arm as though he’d been touched by a torch, and for a moment he was lost for words, lost in the gray depths of her sad eyes.

“Don’t worry about me, Lass. I’ve got a thick hide.” At least, he’d believed he was tough-skinned, until she’d touched him. Dear Lord, he had to get out of here before he did something totally unprofessional. Like gather her into his arms and cuddle her against his chest. “And right now I have to get back to work.”

Unable to tear his eyes away from her, he began to move backward toward the door.

“What about tomorrow?” she asked in bewilderment.

He flashed a smile. “Bridget will let me know when to be here to pick you up.”

“But I—”

Placing a finger against his lips, he said, “I promise, my folks will be thrilled to have you.”

And so would he, Brady silently admitted. But how long would it be before the thrill turned into a problem? Before good intentions turned bad?

Brady wasn’t going to let himself think about those questions. Right now Lass needed him. And that was all that mattered.

The next morning Brady had been at his desk for over an hour when Sheriff Hamilton arrived at work. As the tall, dark-haired man sauntered through Brady’s small work area, he stopped in his tracks and stared at his chief deputy.

“It’s not even daylight yet. What are you doing here?”

Brady glanced up from his computer screen. Ethan Hamilton was a big man in stature and presence and held a lifelong connection to the area he served. Eleven years ago, when Roy Pardee had retired, Ethan had stepped into a pair of mighty big boots. Roy had been loved and revered, a living legend as far as citizens of the county were concerned and being the man’s nephew had only made it harder for Ethan to prove himself. Down through the years he’d done that and more. He’d married the county judge, Penelope Parker, and they were now raising twin sons, Jake and Jase.

“I could say the same about you.” Even though Ethan was clearly the boss, the two men were longtime friends and they conversed as such. Now Brady swiveled the rolling chair away from the desk and stood facing the sheriff. “Is something going on with you?”

“Penny’s still feeling puny and she was up early,” Ethan explained. “Once she gets up, I can’t sleep.”

“Again? Maybe you should take her to a doctor. See what’s wrong with the woman,” Brady suggested.

A slow smile spread across the sheriff’s face. “I don’t need to. She went to the doctor yesterday and he assured her everything would get back to normal—in seven months. Or as normal as it can be with another baby in the house.”

Brady was stunned. Ethan and Penny’s twins were nearly twelve years old. After all this time, he’d never figured the couple wanting more children. “Penny is … pregnant?”

“Yeah,” he said with a beaming smile. “Isn’t it great? We’d been wanting more children for a long time, but she’s had health issues. Her having the twins was a miracle, so we figured it would be a second miracle if she could get pregnant again. We’d almost given up, but now it’s happened and the doc says everything is going along fine.”

The sheriff was a true family man and nothing made him happier than his wife and children. Brady could only wonder if he’d ever want to be that settled, that focused on one certain woman. So far he’d not found one that could hold his interest for more than a month, much less forever. Where women were concerned, Brady’s mother accused him of being a selfish alpha male who expected too much from a lady. But Brady would hardly classify himself in those terms. He’d rather think of himself as smart and practical. And he was smart enough to know that he wasn’t ready or willing to turn his life over to a woman. For that to happen, he’d have to be head over heels in love. And so far, that malady had never struck Brady.

Shaking the sheriff’s hand heartily, Brady expressed his congratulations. “Wow! This must have been a pleasant surprise for the whole family! You must be walking on a cloud right about now!”

The sheriff chuckled. “The whole Murdock clan has kept the phone lines hot with the news. And me, well, I’m not even complaining about having to cook breakfast for me and the boys for the past week. Penny can’t stand the smell of food early in the mornings. She won’t even let me make coffee. And speaking of coffee—” he glanced over his shoulder to a corner where the coffeemaker was located “—has anyone made a pot yet?”

“Yeah. Me. I’ll get us both a cup,” Brady told him. “I need to talk with you.”

“Fine. Bring it on to my office,” he said. “I want to see if Dottie has left any notes on my desk.”

Moments later, carrying two cups steaming with coffee, Brady entered the sheriff’s office and took a seat in front of the other man’s desk.

“So,” Ethan said as he sipped from the cup and rifled through the scraps of paper scattered in front of him, “you have something personal on your mind? Or business?”

Feeling sheepish and not really knowing why, Brady cleared his throat. “A little of both, I suppose. It’s about the Jane Doe case. She’s getting released from the hospital today. And I … plan on taking her out to the ranch.”

Ethan’s head shot up. “The Diamond D—?”

“That’s right. Do you have any problems with that?”

The sheriff rubbed a finger along his jaw. “Well, I don’t think there’s any law against it. But I … wouldn’t advise it, Brady. The county has places for people like her. They’ll look out for her until we get this thing straightened out.”

Frowning with disapproval, Brady leaned forward. “Sure. In that women’s shelter down in Ruidoso. That wouldn’t be good.”

“Why not?”

Brady slowly sipped his coffee while he tried to gather all the legitimate excuses he could think of. “Well, it’s right next to the mission for people with addiction problems.”

“She won’t have to mingle with those people.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Brady tried again. “The women’s shelter is small and they rarely have enough room to spare. Lass wouldn’t have any privacy and she’d have to wear whatever she could find out of the charity box.”

Ethan picked up another note and scanned the brief contents. “I could think of worse things.”

Brady’s jaw tightened. “She doesn’t come from that sort of background, Ethan. She doesn’t belong there.”

The sheriff shot him a wry look, before he carefully sipped his coffee. “None of the other women belong there, either, Brady. Bad circumstances put them there. Just like the Jane—” He suddenly paused, his eyes narrowing on Brady’s face. “Did I hear you call her ‘Lass’? Has she remembered her name?”

Brady couldn’t stop a wave of red heat from crawling up his neck and onto his face. “No. Unless her condition changed overnight.” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “I gave her the name. We had to have something to call her.”

“Yeah,” Ethan said dryly, “guess the name Jane wouldn’t work for that.”

Knowing the other man could see right through him, Brady tossed up his hands in surrender. “Okay. Okay. So I’m a sucker for a stray. What can I say?”

Ethan settled back in his chair and Brady could feel the full weight of the other man’s attention.

“Like I said, there’s no law against you taking Lass or Jane or whatever the hell she’s calling herself, home with you,” the sheriff said, “but you could be asking for a whole heap of trouble. This thing with her smells fishy to me. And the stink could rub off on you or your family. Are you prepared for that?”

Unease prickled down Brady’s backbone. He’d been a law officer long enough to know that Ethan was right. Lass could mean trouble. Yet his job was to serve and protect. And right now he couldn’t think of anyone who needed his services more than Lass.

“All the more reason to have her in a safe, secluded place. Where I can keep watch on her.”

Ethan studied him for long, thoughtful moments, then shook his head. “All right, Brady. I’m not going to buck you on this. Just remember not to let your personal feelings get in the way of the case.”

Brady grinned with relief. “I’m not going to stop until I solve it. In fact, that’s why I’m here so early this morning. I was trying to go through the system, see if she might match any new missing person’s case.”

“What about her fingerprints? Have you already run them?”

Nodding, Brady said, “Did that yesterday. No match there. But then she would’ve had to have been in the military, the government or arrested to find them in our database.”

“What about medical progress?” Ethan asked. “Hank tells me that your sister has taken her case. What is Bridget’s medical opinion?”

“That time will heal her. But she can only guess as to how much time.”

“Hmm. Let’s hope her recovery is speedy. In the meantime, the woman has to be connected to someone. Boyfriend. Husband. Family. Someone who cares enough to start a search for her.”

Someone who cares. Ethan’s words jerked Brady back to the everyday reality of his job. Of course there were people out there who cared about Lass, he thought. A woman who looked like her most likely had a special man in her life. And it was Brady’s job to see that she got safely back to that man’s arms.

Chapter Four

Shortly after lunch that same day, Lass’s paper work for her release from the hospital was completed and Brady picked her up in a black pickup truck with a sheriff’s department seal emblazoned on the doors.

The day was warm and bright and as he drove slowly along a mountain highway, Lass felt her spirits lift. It felt wonderful to be out of the confines of the hospital and even more wonderful to know that she wasn’t going to be deposited in a charity ward, where she’d be pushed aside and her plight ignored for those persons with more serious problems.

Turning her gaze away from the passenger window, she glanced over to the man behind the wheel. Brady Donovan was not just a regular deputy, she decided. He was a tall, sexy angel who had rescued her from possible death. If she’d lain on the side of the road throughout the night, she could have succumbed to exposure to the elements or wild animals, particularly black bears. Now he’d come to her rescue again and she wasn’t quite sure why.

“You’re sure that your family won’t mind me staying at their home for a few days?” she asked.

“It’s my home, too,” he reminded her. “And stop worrying. I spoke to my parents this morning. They’re glad to help.”

Lass sighed. Most of last night and this morning, as she’d struggled to remember anything about her life up until a day ago, she’d felt totally disconnected, as though she’d been defeated by something or someone, even before she’d received the whack on her head.

“They must be very generous people to allow a stranger into their home.” Bending her head, she squeezed her eyes shut as tears threatened to fall. “It would be impossible to express my gratitude to them—to you.”

“Forget it, Lass. My family has plenty to give. And they like helping others. They’re that sort of people.”

Raising her head, she glanced his way. Now in the bright light of day, she was getting an even clearer image of the man and she had to admit that the sight of him was a bit breathtaking. Did that mean that she’d not been accustomed to having a sexy man like him for company? If her memory were working normally, would he still look just as special? Something told her that he would and that she’d never encountered a man like him before.

His tawny-colored hair was shaggier than she’d first noticed and subtly streaked with shades of amber, copper and gold, a perfect foil for his dark green eyes. But the rich colors were only a part of what made his looks so striking, she realized. It was his bigger-than-life presence, the personality that simmered behind his twinkling gaze and enigmatic smile.

“Well, I won’t forget this kindness you and your family are showing me. I’ll repay you somehow. I promise.”

A corner of his mouth lifted in a wry grin. “We don’t expect that, Lass. Giving doesn’t mean much if you give only to get something in return. That’s what my mom always taught me.”

Her heart heavy, she gazed out at the desert mountains. They were dotted with twisted juniper, scrubby pinyon pine and clumps of sage. To her right, at the bottom of the mountains, the highway shared part of the valley floor with a river. The Hondo, Brady had called it earlier, was lined with tall poplars, willows and evergreens, while in between the meandering ribbon of water and the roadway, green meadows were covered with grasses and wildflowers. Pretty as the scenery was, nothing about it seemed familiar to her fuddled brain.

“I wonder if I have a mother,” she murmured. “I wonder what mine might have taught me.”

He was silent for a moment and then the two-way radio on the dashboard began to crackle yet again as a busy dispatcher issued information to an officer on call. By the time the female voice had finished, Lass figured Brady’s thoughts had moved on to things other than her miserable plight.

He surprised her by picking up the conversation exactly where Lass had left off. “You’re a young woman, Lass. I’m betting you have a mother somewhere. She’s probably hunting for you right this moment, and so is … your father.”

Lass’s heart winced with a doubt she couldn’t understand. Why did she have this notion that her parents might not be hunting for her? Wasn’t that what normal parents did when their child went missing? Only if they were normal, she mentally pointed out, and God only knew if hers were alive, much less normal.

“I can only hope,” she replied, then forcing her mind to move on, she asked, “Does this area have a name? I’ve noticed we’ve passed a few homesteads.”

“It’s called the Hondo Valley. People around here raise cattle and horses and lots of fruit in the summer. Does that ring a bell?”

She bit back a sigh. “Not really.”

“Well, if you’re not from around here, it probably wouldn’t. And I’m positive you don’t live anywhere close.”

“How could you know that?”

His chuckle was warm and husky and filled Lass with unexpected pleasure.

“‘Cause I know all the pretty women in Lincoln County. And believe me when I say I would know your name.”

Forty minutes from the time they drove away from Sierra General, Brady steered the truck off the highway and onto a graveled dirt road lined with a white board fence and towering Lombardy poplars. Along the way, the land opened up to wide meadows with tall dense grass.

When Lass spotted the first mares and foals grazing along the roadside, she squealed with delight.

“Oh! How perfectly lovely!” Leaning forward, she gazed raptly at the horses and, as she took in their grace and beauty, emotion suddenly overwhelmed her to the point that she had to swallow before she could say another word. “Could we … stop for just a minute, Brady? For a closer look?”

“Sure. We’re not in a hurry.”

He pulled the truck to the side of the road and after carefully helping her to the ground, wrapped his hand firmly around hers, then led her to a spot where the fence was shaded by one of the poplars.

“This is part of the Diamond D’s brood stock,” he explained as they looked out over the meadow dotted with mares and babies at their sides. “And I’ll admit without a speck of modesty that we have some of the finest horses in the southwest.”

“Mmm. I wouldn’t argue with that,” she said as she deliberately fixed her gaze on the horses and tried to ignore the fact that he was still hanging on to her hand. But that was impossible to do when the tangle of their fingers was sending all sorts of hot currents pulsing through her, sensations that she was certain she’d never felt before. Something this strong couldn’t be forgotten, she decided.

“You must like horses,” he observed. “Maybe you have one of your own somewhere.”

She could feel his glance sliding over her and like a magnet it drew her eyes back to his rugged face. Drawing in a deep breath, she replied, “It doesn’t make sense but I know … without even thinking about it, that I love these beautiful animals. Strange, isn’t it?” she murmured with despair. “I don’t know if I have a job, or home or … anything. Yet I feel this affinity to horses.”

“We’re going to find answers for you, Lass. I promise. And Brady Donovan never makes a promise he can’t keep.”

Glancing up at him, she gave him a shaky smile and tried not to notice the gentle gleam in his green eyes. As far as she was concerned, Brady Donovan didn’t need to carry a firearm. His smile was lethal enough to stop a woman dead in her tracks.

Her heart kicked into a faint flutter, making her words little more than a husky whisper when she said, “I’m going to hold you to that, Deputy.”

Carefully extricating her hand from his, she moved a step forward and leaned against the white fence. The afternoon was warm and a southwesterly breeze ruffled her black hair against her shoulders. The wind carried the scent of pine and juniper and though pleasant, the smells seemed unusual to her. But not nearly so much as the strong reaction she was having to Brady Donovan.

“It’s very beautiful here,” she went on nervously. “Have you always lived here in this valley?”

“Always,” he answered. “All of us six children were born here. My paternal grandparents came from Ireland and settled for a while in Kentucky. That’s where my father was born before they moved out here and built the ranch in 1968.”

“Are your grandparents still living?”

“My grandmother Kate lives with us. She’s eighty-four now and still going strong. My grandfather Arthur died of a stroke nine years ago. He was quite a bit older than Kate. And mean as hell when his temper was riled. But he was a wonderful man.”

It was easy to pick up the fondness in Brady Donovan’s voice and Lass didn’t have to ask whether he was close to his family. Obviously they were a close-knit bunch. And that notion could only make her wonder about herself. Did she have sisters, brothers or both? Was she carrying a family in her heart? One her mind had forgotten?

She was straining to remember the slightest image from her past when a bay mare and brown colt ambled near. Gripping the top rail of the fence, Lass was once again struck with an overload of emotions.

“Oh, what a perfect little filly! She’s all brown. Not a speck of white on her!”

Brady smiled fondly at the curious filly drawing near to them. “My sister Dallas calls her Brownie. Of course, that’s not her real name. Dad makes sure all of the horses’ names go back to their dams and sires. But we usually give them nicknames.”

Brownie stuck her nose toward Lass’s hand and as she touched the filly’s velvety nose, tears blurred her eyes, then fell like watery diamonds onto her cheeks.

Seeing them, Brady softly exclaimed, “Why, Lass! You’re crying!”

Instantly, her face blushing with embarrassment, Lass dashed away the emotional tears. “I’m okay,” she said with a sniff. “Just feeling a bit … sentimental.”

Bending her head, she wiped at the moisture that continued in spite of her effort to gather herself together. Oh, God, what was wrong with her? she wondered. Why would a brown filly with big, sweet eyes reduce her to tears? She was losing it!

Without warning, his arm came around her shoulder and its steadying strength allowed her to lift her head and look at him. The concern on his face touched her, made her long to lay her cheek upon his broad chest and weep until she was too weak to be frightened by the past or worried about the future.

“Have you remembered something, Lass? Is it something about the horses?”

With a brief shake of her head, she forced herself to turn her gaze back on the filly. At the most, the baby horse was probably six months old and would no doubt be weaned in the near future. Her body was long, her tall legs gangly. She was bred for speed and in a couple of years those legs would stretch into a gallop so fast they would appear as little more than a blur.

How did she instinctively know all these things? How did she know about a horse’s conformation? Without even thinking she could point out the animal’s cannon bone, or hock or withers or any other body part.

“I … don’t know, Brady. Something about the horses … When I look at them—especially this brown filly—I feel happy and sad all at the same time. It doesn’t make sense. But somehow I’m certain that I know how to ride and ride well.”

“Well, that’s good news,” he said with gentle humor. “That means you’re going to fit right in with my family. And while you’re here on the ranch you can ride to your heart’s content.”

She nodded and he squeezed her shoulders.

“We’d better get on to the house,” he suggested. “I don’t want you to overdo on your first day out of the hospital.”

Embarrassed that she’d gotten so inexplicably weepy, she straightened her spine and gave him a grateful, albeit wobbly, smile.

“Thank you, Brady, for stopping and letting me have a few minutes with the horses,” she said softly. “And for … everything you’re doing for me.”

Without warning, his hand lifted to her face and her heart jumped into a rapid thud as his forefinger slowly, gently traced the line of her cheekbone.

“I don’t want you to keep thanking me, Lass. I have my own selfish reasons for giving you a temporary home.”

Instead of the wild race it had been on, her heart geared itself to a near stop.

“Oh.” She unconsciously moistened her lips. “Um … what reasons are you talking about? Making your job easier?”

A lopsided smile twisted his lips. “My job actually has little to do with inviting you to the Diamond D. I like your company. It’s that plain and simple. And I guess you could call me a naughty boy for taking advantage of your homeless situation.”

She’d not expected anything like this to come from the deputy’s mouth and for a moment she was too stunned to make any sort of reply. “Well,” she finally whispered, then cleared her throat and tried again, “I have to admire your honesty.”

Chuckling lowly, he squeezed her shoulder. “Sorry, Lass. I’m not very good at being subtle, I guess. But don’t worry, I promise not to take any more advantages. Unless you … invite me to,” he added with a sinful little grin.

Feeling flattered and naive all at once, she drew in a deep breath. “Brady, I—”

Keep everything light, Lass. This lawman is just enjoying a little flirtation with you. That’s all.

After her long pause, he prompted, “You what?”

Plastering a playful smile on her face, she said, “I was just going to say that you probably won’t enjoy my company for long. Without a memory, I’m pretty boring.”

His eyes softened. Or did she just imagine the elusive change in the green depths?

“Let me be the judge of that,” he said, then before she could possibly decide how to respond, he turned her toward the waiting truck. “Right now, we’d better get back on the road.”

They traveled two more miles before Brady finally stopped the truck in front of a massive two-story house built of native rock and trimmed with rough cedar. Arched windows adorned the front and overlooked a deep green lawn shaded by tall pines.

A brick walkway led to a small portico covering the front entrance. At the double wooden doors fitted with brass, Brady didn’t bother knocking. He opened one and gestured for her to precede him over the threshold and into a long foyer filled with potted plants and lined with a selection of wooden, straight-backed chairs.

Instantly Lass caught the scent of lemon wax and the distant sound of piano music.

“That’s Grandma Kate pounding the ivories,” Brady informed her as they stepped into a long, formal living room.

As they walked forward, Lass caught glimpses of antique furniture covered in rich colored brocade, elaborate window coverings and expensive paintings. The room looked stiff and lonely.

“Is your family musical?” she asked, while trying not to feel conspicuous in her mussed shirt and blue jeans.

Lass would’ve liked to have purchased something clean to change into before she left the town of Ruidoso, but without money or credit cards, she was hardly in a position to buy anything. And she would have bitten off her tongue before she would’ve asked Brady for financial aid. He was already bending over backward to help her.

In a flirtatious way, he’d called it taking advantage, but now that she’d had a couple of miles and a few minutes to think about it, she realized he’d only been trying to make her feel as though she wasn’t going to be a burden on him, or anyone. There hadn’t been anything personal about the look in his eyes or the way he’d touched her. He probably treated all women in that same familiar way and the best thing she could do was put the moment out of her mind.

“Only Grandma and my sister Dallas are the musical ones in the family. I can’t tell one note from the other,” he answered. With his hand at her back, he guided her through an arched opening and into a long hallway. “The family room is right down here. That’s where everybody relaxes and gets together when they’re not working. There and the kitchen. Forget the front parlor. That’s only used for meeting with people we don’t like.”

Lass couldn’t help but laugh. “Then I’m glad your family didn’t meet me there.”

After walking several feet down the carpeted corridor, Brady ushered her through an open doorway to their right. The family room, as he’d called it, was a long space, comfortably furnished with two couches and several armchairs, a large television set and stereo equipment, one whole wall of books and wide paned windows that overlooked a ridge of desert mountains. At the far end, a tall woman with graying chestnut hair sat playing an upright piano. The instrument looked as though it had to be near a hundred years old, but the woman pressing the keys appeared surprisingly vital for her age.

At the moment she was playing a boisterous waltz that went a long way in lifting Lass’s drooping spirits.

“Grandma! Stop that confounded noise and come meet Lass!” Brady yelled loud enough to be heard above the piano.

Abruptly, the woman lifted her fingers from the keys and turned with a frown. “What? Oh, Brady, it’s you.”

She rose spryly from the piano stool and walked over to greet them, while Lass studied Brady’s grandmother with a bit of shock. She’d been expecting a frail woman with white hair and pale, fragile skin dressed in a flowered shirt-waister. Kate Donovan was a tanned, robust woman, with a short, sporty hairdo and heavy silver jewelry adorning her ears and neck. She was wearing Levi’s, cowboy boots and a generous smile on her face. Lass instantly loved her.

“Yes, it’s me.” He reached out and fondly pinched the woman’s cheek and she immediately swatted at his hand.

“Stop it! You big flirt!”

Brady grinned. “That’s because you’re looking so pretty today.”

The older woman feigned a bored sigh, then thrust her hand out to Lass.

“I’m Kate Donovan,” she said warmly. “And you must be the little lost lady that my grandson found on the roadside.”

Shaking the woman’s firm grip, Lass smiled back at her. “Yes, ma’am. And please call me Lass.” She glanced shyly toward Brady, then back to the matriarch of the Donovan family. “That’s what Brady named me. And I’d like to say how very grateful I am to your grandson—to you and your whole family for allowing me to stay here in your home for a few days.”

Kate patted the back of Lass’s hand. “You’re perfectly welcome, honey. We like having company. When an outsider is around, it keeps the family fights down to a minimum,” she added with a wink.

“Grandma, don’t make her any more nervous than she already is!” Brady scolded his grandmother. “You’ll have her thinking we’re a bunch of heathens.”

“Nonsense!” Kate shot back at him. “She’s probably used to family bickering.”

Brady tossed his grandmother a look of exaggerated patience. “Grandma, Lass can’t remember anything. She doesn’t know whether she has a family, much less if they argue among themselves.”

Kate scowled at him. “All right, all right. I wasn’t thinking,” she admitted. “But it looks as though you don’t have an iota of sense in that brain of yours, either.”

Confusion caused him to arch one of his brows. “Why do you say that?”

Frowning at him, Kate moved to Lass’s side and curled a protective arm around her shoulder. “What do you mean letting the girl leave the hospital in dirty clothes? Shame on you, Brady!”

Brady opened his mouth to speak, but the older woman didn’t allow him the chance.

“Don’t bother with excuses,” Kate said, then turned Lass and began leading her out of the room.

Brady followed on their heels. “What are you doing?”

“Taking Lass upstairs,” the older woman answered. “Fiona is already up there, making sure everything is ready for our guest. We’ll find Lass some clothes and get her all settled. You don’t have to concern yourself now.”

“But I—”

Kate Donovan paused in her forward movement long enough to shoot Brady a pointed frown.

“Don’t you need to get back to work?” she interjected.

He looked helplessly at Lass, who was still standing beneath his grandmother’s protective wing, then shrugged. In all honesty, he wasn’t yet ready to leave the ranch and Lass behind. He’d been planning on taking a few more minutes to show her around the house, introduce her to his mother and generally make her feel welcome.

“Ethan lets me be my own boss.”

“Poor man,” Kate said. “You’ve got him confused.”

Brady hurried over to join the two women as they headed out of the room and quickly looped his arm through Lass’s.

“Confused, hell,” Brady retorted, then directed his next question at his grandmother. “Have you heard that Penny’s pregnant again?”

The older woman paused long enough to gape at him. “Penny? Pregnant again? Why, no! But how wonderful!”

“I’d think shocking is a better word for it,” Brady replied. “She’s got to be pushing forty.”

Kate Donovan laughed and winked at Lass. “Maybe there’s still hope for me yet.”

“Grandma! Why don’t you quit embarrassing me? Old people should be seen and not heard and you’re quickly falling into that category,” Brady chided the woman.

Lass gasped while Kate’s robust laughter rang through the hallway. “Why don’t you move out, big boy?” she suggested to Brady. “And then this house might not feel so much like a mental ward.”

Chuckling, Brady bent his head toward Lass’s ear. “Grandma and I love each other,” he explained. “Very much.”

By now the three of them had reached a wide, carpeted staircase, but before they started the climb, Kate stopped and leveled a stern look at Lass.

“Honey, I’m going to warn you right now. Whatever you do, don’t believe a word this young fool tells you. He’s full of Irish blarney. Or full of himself. Either one is bad for a pretty girl like you.”

Before Brady could defend himself, the cell phone in his pocket rang. After one swift glance at the number, he answered, listened briefly, then briskly replied, “Take Tate with you. I expect they’ll be some resistance. Yeah. Thirty minutes.”

Snapping the phone shut, he dropped the phone in his pocket. “Gotta go,” he explained to the two women. “Trouble in the Valley of Fire.”

Picking up the urgency in his voice, Lass watched him turn and trot off in the direction from which they’d just came. And as she watched him go, she was suddenly reminded that for all his playfulness, Brady was a lawman and his job no doubt often put him in danger. The idea left her very uneasy.

Kate Donovan patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Lass. My grandson is a fine deputy. He knows what he’s doing.”

Yes, but did Lass know what she was doing? She’d come here to the Diamond D to stay until she could figure out where she really belonged. So why did one touch, one smile, from Brady Donovan make her feel like she’d just found home?

Chapter Five

Much later that evening, as night fell over the Diamond D, Lass sat quietly in an armchair in her bedroom. As she watched stars emerge in a purple sky, and wondered how she’d gone from lying unconscious in a mountainside ditch to a luxurious ranch, a light knock sounded on the door.

Maybe Brady had finally returned home, she thought hopefully. All afternoon she’d been thinking about him, imagining him in all sorts of dangerous, life-threatening situations.

Glancing over her shoulder, she called, “Come in.”

Instead of Brady pushing through the door, a tall, young woman with light auburn hair and a cheery smile stepped into the room. A crinkled floral skirt swirled against her brown cowboy boots while a coral-colored blouse flattered her vibrant hair. To Lass she looked like a beautiful ray of sunshine.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m Dallas. Brady’s and Bridget’s sister.”

Smiling, Lass quickly rose from the chair and walked over to the other woman. Extending her hand, she said, “I’m very happy to meet you, Dallas. I’m … well, I’m Lass.” Her short laugh was a mixture of helplessness and humor. “At least, that’s what Brady has christened me.”

Dallas laughed along with her and Lass instantly realized she was going to like this woman.

“Well, that’s much better than the name he gave one of our barn cats. I won’t repeat that one to you.” She glanced appreciatively over the pale blue dress Lass was wearing. “Hey, that looks great on you. Grandma said that she and Mom found you some of Bridget’s things to wear. Since the two of you are both petite and about the same size. But listen, if you’d like to go on a shopping trip, just let me know. We’ll take an afternoon and raid all the shops in Ruidoso. My treat. After all, a girl needs intimate things of her own.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. I mean, Brady didn’t find a pocketbook, money, credit cards or anything on me. I’m a—” She held up her palms in a helpless gesture. “I suppose I’m what you call a charity case.”

The tall redhead shrugged one slender shoulder. “So what? You won’t always be dependant. Besides, I just might put you to work,” she added with a wink, then touched Lass’s shoulder and urged her toward the door. “If you’re ready, let’s go down. Dinner is close to being served and the family is having drinks.”

Lass followed her out of the bedroom and as they descended the steps, she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Has Brady made it home yet?”

Dallas shook her head. “No. None of us have had any contact with him. One of the hands down at the barns heard over the police scanner that shots had been fired, but that was more than an hour ago.”

A heavy weight sunk to the pit of Lass’s stomach. “That … sounds ominous.”

“Well, Brady has worked as a law officer for a long time and it’s pretty rare for shots to be fired. But we try to take it all in stride. He knows what he’s doing. And he doesn’t want us sitting around worrying about him. But it’s definitely hard not to worry. Especially when he was shot last year during a drug sting.”

Lass felt chilled. “Shot? Was he wounded badly?”

“A flesh wound in his arm. We were all thankful it wasn’t worse.”

Hoping the other woman couldn’t see the fear in her eyes, Lass murmured, “I’m sure.”

The two women descended the last few stairs, then made their way to the family room where Fiona pressed a glass of port into Lass’s hand. While she sipped the sweet wine, the woman introduced Lass to Brady’s father, Doyle, and his two brothers, Conall and Liam. Surprisingly, the three men were nothing like Brady. Conall was dark and quiet, Liam polite, but with an air of indifference, while Doyle appeared to be a blunt, no-nonsense sort of man.

When the family finally gathered around a long dining table, Lass couldn’t help but notice the empty chair to Fiona’s left elbow was conspicuously empty. And as the conversation flowed back and forth between the family members, she got the feeling that they were all concerned for his safety, but doing their best to make light of the situation.

“It’s probably a drug bust,” Fiona said as salads were served by one of the housemaids. “What else would anyone being doing out in the Valley of Fire? There’s nothing there but miles and miles of lava beds.”

Liam said, “The way Reese heard it over the scanner, the call had something to do with a domestic dispute.”

“Way out there?” Dallas countered. “That doesn’t make sense. There aren’t any homes out there.”

Liam frowned impatiently at her. “I’m just repeating what I heard, sis.”

“It doesn’t matter what the call was about,” Doyle said brusquely. “Brady’s simply doing his job. He’ll be fine. Now let’s talk about something else.”

At the opposite end of the table from Doyle, Kate cleared her voice loudly. “You’re right, son. We have a guest and I’m fairly certain she’d like to talk about something else besides shootings and criminals.”

Lass looked up from her salad to find several pairs of eyes on her. Feeling more than conspicuous, warm color flushed her cheeks.

“Oh, please, don’t let me interrupt,” she said in a small voice. “I’m very happy to just listen.”

The older brother—Conall—looked straight at her. Lass got the impression he’d been carved from a chunk of ice.

“So you don’t know where you come from?” he asked. “No clues at all?”

“Well, hell no,” Kate boomed back at her eldest grandson. “If she did, do you think she’d be wasting her time sitting here, listening to you?”

“I don’t know, Grandmother,” he said with exaggerated patience. “Maybe she doesn’t like where she came from.”

Her lips pressed into a grim line, Kate shook her head at him. “Sometimes you can really disappoint me.”

He shrugged. “Sorry. I guess I was just made that way,” he quipped.

Feeling worse than uncomfortable and wishing Brady was at her side for more than one reason, she tried not to squirm on her seat. She hated to think that some of this family thought she might be faking her amnesia, or that perhaps she might be part of a con, directed at the Donovan family. Didn’t they realize that it was all Brady’s idea to bring her here? As far as she was concerned, things would have been much simpler if she’d gone to the women’s shelter in Ruidoso rather than try to integrate herself into this large, complex family.

“Actually,” she said in a low, but steady voice, “I don’t know where I used to live. But I believe Brady when he says he’ll find my family.”

To her surprise, it was Doyle who looked at her with empathy and understanding. “I believe him, too. And until he does, we want you to make our home your home, Lass.”

Gratitude poured through her and she smiled briefly at him. “Thank you, Mr. Donovan. I’m very grateful.”

Dallas quickly interjected. “Well, I’m happy to learn that Lass remembers something about herself. She knows all about horses and knows how to ride.”

Liam’s brows lifted with faint curiosity while Conall muttered, “How convenient.”

“That’s right,” Dallas went on, clearly ignoring her brother’s sarcasm. “I’m going to take her over to the stables tomorrow and show her around. I think I might have found a great assistant. That is, after she gets over her concussion.”

Over a small glass of wine before dinner, Lass had learned that Dallas operated a therapeutic riding stable for handicapped children. Angel Wing Stables, as Dallas had called it, was entirely nonprofit and considered a labor of love. If Lass could help out around the stables in some way, she’d be glad to. She needed something to keep her mind occupied as it tried to heal. And she loved children.

How do you know that about yourself, Lass? Do you have a child of your own? Were you a nurse? A teacher? A mother?

The voice in her head was like tormenting drips of a leaky faucet. The questions were endless and unstoppable.

“By the time she gets over her concussion,” Liam reasoned, “she’ll probably have her memory back.”

“Let’s pray that happens,” Kate said, then leveled sharp eyes on her grandsons. “You two tough guys over there would be as scared as hell if you woke up some morning and didn’t have any roots, or home, or family or a dime in your pocket. Think about it.”

They must have thought about it, Lass decided. Because after that, the subject of her amnesia wasn’t brought into the conversation again. Talk around the table turned to racing and the fact that Del Mar would be opening for the late summer season soon. In a couple of days, Liam planned to ship several horses out to the historic track in Southern California and would be staying with them until the meet was over in September.

From what she could gather, the Donovans owned several grade I and II thoroughbreds, which was impressive indeed. Horses of that caliber were worth at least a million dollars each and oftentimes more. Which explained the comfortable, but elaborate, house and grounds, the large diamonds on Kate’s and Fiona’s hands, their casual, but well-tailored clothes. And yet, none of this awed Lass nor made her feel out of place. What did it all mean? That she was also from a rich background? Lass certainly didn’t feel rich. But perhaps her inner self wasn’t measuring her wealth by money. Thank God.

Not long after the meal, Lass excused herself and climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Brady still hadn’t come home and after a few minutes, she climbed into bed thinking about the deputy and listening for the sound of his footsteps on the bedroom landing.

You’re clearly unstable, Lass. You don’t know your name, where your home is, or if you have one relative on the face of this earth. But instead of worrying about that, all you can think about is a sexy deputy with a head full of tawny waves and hazel green eyes glinting with mischief.

Eventually the nagging voice in her head quieted and Lass fell asleep from the exhaustion of the past two days. She must have slept soundly because the next morning she didn’t hear a thing until Brady’s voice sounded just above her ear.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty. Coffee has arrived.”

The fog of sleep was slow to move from Lass’s brain, but when it did, the realization that Brady was standing over her bed and that she was wearing a skimpy gown had her eyes flying open and her hands quickly snatching the cover up to her chin.

“Brady! What … are you doing in here?”

Grinning as though he was pleased with himself, he gestured toward the nightstand and a tray holding a small insulated coffeepot, a fragile china cup and saucer, cream pitcher, sugar bowl and a small branch covered with red blossoms.

“What is that?” she asked.

“Coffee. I took it for granted that you liked it. But if you’d rather have tea, I’ll have Reggie prepare another tray.”

With a death grip on the sheet, she propped herself against the headboard. A dose of caffeine to wake her up was hardly needed, she thought, when just looking at him was already making her heart pound. “No. I love coffee. I was talking about the flower.”

“Oh. That.” He picked up the branch of blossoms and handed it to her. “I don’t know what it is. I broke it off one of the bushes in Grandma’s flower garden. Because it was pretty. And I thought you might like it.”

Lass lifted the flowers to her nose, while an awkward feeling suddenly assaulted her. She didn’t know why having Brady see her in bed was bothering her. It wasn’t like it was the first time. But that had been a narrow hospital bed and she’d been garbed in a thick, unflattering cotton gown. Now she was in an opulent bed wearing a piece of red silk that revealed every curve of her body. And he was giving her flowers as though she was special.

Keeping her eyes carefully on the red, trumpet-shaped blooms, she said, “I do like it. Very much. But Kate’s going to get you for meddling with her flowers.”

He chuckled. “She’ll forgive me. Especially if I tell her I did it for you. She likes you. I can tell. And Grandma doesn’t just take to any and everyone.”

Turning away from her, he poured the cup full of coffee. “Cream? Sugar?”

It felt ridiculous having this macho man of a lawman standing beside her bed, serving her as though she was a princess. Yet it also made her feel cared about and very special. Was that his motive? she wondered. Or was he this way with all the females who visited the Diamond D?

“Just a little cream, please. But I can do it,” she insisted. “You don’t need to do … all of this for me.”

“Why not? I’m here and I’m capable.”

Thrusting her disheveled hair from her face, she placed the flower on her lap and took the cup he offered. While she sipped, he pulled the chair away from the vanity, positioned it next to the bed and took a seat. This morning he was dressed in faded jeans and a black, short-sleeved polo shirt and though his hair was combed neatly back from his face, she could see a hint of rusty whiskers shadowing his chin and jaw. That and the faint lines beneath his eyes were the only signs that he’d had a late night.

“Tell me, Brady, do you do this for all house guests that come to the Diamond D?” she asked as she peered demurely at him over the rim of her cup.

He grinned. “Only the ones I want to leave a lasting impression on,” he teased, then his expression sobered. “You have a concussion. You need to be taking it easy.”

Unconsciously, her fingertips fluttered to the stitched wound hidden by her hair. “Bridget says I can move around. As long as I don’t rush or exert myself. And I’m feeling much stronger today.”

“That’s good. Real good.”

He stretched his long legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles as though he was planning to stay there for a while. Apparently it didn’t make him the least bit uncomfortable to visit a woman’s bedroom. But then a man who looked like him had probably had plenty of practice at it, she thought.

“We … were all worried about you last night,” she murmured. “I’m glad to see you made it safely back home.”

He simply looked at her, his eyes warm and appreciative. “It was nothing to get worked up about. Just a little scuffle. A man with a gun got upset and went a little off the beam. That’s all. He’s safe behind bars now. And we’re all just fine.”

The first few hours after she’d gone to bed, she’d imagined him in all sorts of dangerous situations and she’d been desperately afraid for his safety. Now, she felt foolish for letting her imagination and her feelings get so out of hand. “Does that sort of thing happen often?” she asked.

“No. But neither does finding a pretty girl with amnesia,” he answered, a faint grin lifting one corner of his mouth. “The stars must have gone off-kilter this past week. The department’s been extra busy.”

“Well, I wish the stars would realign themselves,” she did her best to joke. “Maybe then I’d get my memory back.”

“Still nothing?”

Staring down at her cooling coffee, she said dismally, “No. Apparently nothing up there in my head is regenerating.”

“If Brita says it will, then it will. You just need time,” he said with encouragement. Pulling his legs toward him, he leaned forward and rested his forearms across his thighs. “Later this morning Hank and I are going to the track and plaster your picture throughout the clubhouse and betting area. It could be that some of the employees will remember seeing you there last Sunday.”

Brady was being so kind and positive the least she could do was be hopeful and optimistic, too. But that was rather difficult to do when every path her mind took, it ran into a black wall.

“But how will that help, Brady? More than likely I didn’t give my name to anyone.”

“Probably not. But just having someone witness seeing you in a certain place is a big start. If we can confirm that you were at the track that will give us a starting place. From there we can try to trace your steps forward and backward.”

She gave him the bravest smile she could muster. “Okay. I trust you.”

He chuckled. “Really? Then you’re the first woman who ever has.”

Was he saying she was gullible where he was concerned? It didn’t matter. As far as her missing person case was concerned, she had to trust him. As a man, it shouldn’t matter. Even if he wasn’t involved with one special woman, she was in no position to get her feelings tangled up with him. With her past a blank, her future could be nothing but uncertain.

Not really knowing what to reply to his sardonic remark, she sipped her coffee and waited for him to take the conversation elsewhere.

“So what are you going to do today? Sit in a stuffed armchair and read a book?”

Wondering if he was serious, she glanced at him. “I have amnesia, not paralysis.”

A dimple came and went in his cheek. “Well, if reading sounds too boring you can get Grandma to tell you stories about when she and Grandpa first came here. She has some real humdingers.”

“I’m sure. She’s quite a colorful woman. But I already have something planned. Later this morning Dallas is taking me over to her stables to have a look around.”

He groaned. “Listen, Lass, if you let her, Dallas will drive you crazy talking about all her kids and horses and work. If you get tired, don’t be afraid to tell her to hush and bring you home.”

Home. Funny how he said it that way, she thought. As though this place was her home, too. The idea touched her and yet at the same time it made her feel a bit weepy. Somewhere there had to be walls and floors and rooms that had made up her home. Had anyone lived in it with her? Had she been loved? The way the Donovans loved each other?

“I’m sure Dallas and I will get on just fine,” she told him. “I like her very much.”

“Well, as much as I like sitting here with you and seeing you in that pretty red thing you’re wearing, I’ve got to head to work.” He rose to his feet, but instead of heading toward the door, he picked up the thermos and refilled the china cup she was balancing on her knee.

His remark about her gown had her eyes flying downward and she realized with a start that the sheet had slipped to expose her bodice. Thankfully, the paper-thin silk was still covering her breasts.

With a tiny gasp, she started to reach for the sheet, but realized the movement was causing the coffee to slosh dangerously near the rim of the cup.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a little laugh, then taking pity on her, started toward the door. “You look beautiful. Just the way I imagined you would.” With his hand on the knob, he gave her one last glance. “Unless an emergency comes up, I’ll see you later this evening. And who knows, by then someone searching for you might contact the sheriff’s department.”

“I guess that could happen,” she said, while wondering why she couldn’t muster up more enthusiasm over the idea.

“Sure it could,” he said cheerfully. “And then all your problems will be solved.”

He gave her a little salute then stepped out the door. Once it clicked behind him, Lass’s shoulders sagged against the pillows. Would finding her past really solve all her problems, she wondered.

Somehow she didn’t think so. Something kept swirling around in her brain, some dark elusive thought that kept whispering the words danger and fear.

Later that morning, dressed in her own boots, and the jeans and blouse that the maid had laundered for her, she climbed into a pickup truck with Dallas and the two of them headed south on a graveled road toward a ridge of desert mountains.

“Looks like we’re going into the wilderness,” Lass commented. “I thought your stable was probably located close to the highway. For convenience.”

Smiling, Dallas shook her head. “When I first got the idea to build the stables, I knew I wanted it to be far away from the things that most town kids see every day. Like concrete, asphalt and the whiz of vehicles. I wanted it to be an escape for them.” She jerked the steering wheel to avoid a pothole. “I admit that the trip back here isn’t like a drive to the country club. But I believe all in all, it’s worth it for the children.” She glanced at Lass. “I guess this is a silly question, but do you think you have children or a child of your own?”

Sighing, Lass stared out the window at the passing desert landscape. Instinctively, she felt she’d come from a place where huge trees shaded deep green lawns. Yet when she thought of something personal, like a husband or children, her mind revolted and turned as blank as a clean blackboard.

“That’s a question I’ve been asking myself, Dallas. And when I try to remember if I ever held a baby of my own …” She paused and shook her head miserably. “I don’t feel as though I’ve ever had a child. Dear God, I hope there’s not a baby out there somewhere crying for me and I have no way of knowing—of getting back to him or her.”

Brady’s sister nodded grimly. “Yes. I can see where that thought would be torturous.”

“Bridget did say that it’s unlikely I’ve given birth. Still, that doesn’t mean there isn’t a child out there waiting for me.”

Three miles from the Diamond D ranch yard, beyond the mountain ridge, two huge barns and several smaller buildings were erected in a meadow not far from a small creek. Dallas wasted no time in taking Lass through the barn where the horses were stalled, the tack and feed kept and the outside riding arena. Because the day was growing very warm, Dallas had decided to move the riders to a smaller, indoor arena where the temperature was regulated.

Whenever they stepped inside, Lass was surprised to see several stable assistants had children already mounted and moving slowly over the carefully raked ground. Some had outward problems that were obvious to any onlooker, like leg braces or a missing limb. Others suffered the less obvious, such as mental and emotional handicaps. But to Lass’s delight, they were all smiling and having a good time.

“This is wonderful!” Lass exclaimed as she twisted her head in an effort to take everything in. “The children appear to love it!”

Dallas’s eyes twinkled with pride. “They do. And the interaction with the horses helps them in ways you wouldn’t believe. I hope while you’re here you’ll get a chance to see all the positives that go on here,” she said.

“I think I’m seeing it right now,” Lass told her.

Taking her by the arm as though she’d known her for years, Dallas urged her forward. “C’mon and I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

Much later, while Dallas went to deal with a few of the more problematic riders, Lass was content to find a seat on a hay bale behind the fenced arena. She was concentrating on the children and watching the interaction between them and Dallas, when a slight movement caught her eye.

Turning her head slightly, Lass saw a tall, dark-haired man tethering a white horse to a hitching post. There was nothing unusual or out of sorts with the man or the animal and she was on the verge of turning her attention back toward the arena when images suddenly began to flash in front of her eyes.

A steel-gray horse wearing a bright red blanket, a saddle being tossed upon its back. A tall, faceless man in tan chinos, his hand gripping her wrist.

You’re coming with me. Coming with me. Coming with me.

The male voice chanted the words over and over in her head, wrapping the phrase around the flashing images until everything became a violent blur.

Releasing a faint sob, she dropped her head in her hands and supped in long, cleansing breaths. If she was actually remembering, she didn’t want any part of it.

“Lass? Are you okay?”

Dropping her hands away from her face, she looked up to see Brady’s sister standing over her. The woman was looking at her with concern and for a moment Lass wondered if she’d unconsciously cried out in fear.

“I … um, my head is starting to pound again. That’s all.” She didn’t want to tell Dallas about her visions just yet. Not until she’d spoken to Brady. He was the one who’d rescued her. He was the one who was working to find her identity. And he was the one she trusted to make some sort of sense of her predicament.

“Oh. I’d better get you back to the house!” With a hand on Lass’s arm, she helped her to her feet. “I’m so sorry, Lass. I’ve probably put too much on you this morning. Brady is going to be furious with me.”

“Bridget is my doctor. Not Brady,” Lass pointed out.

A knowing smile crossed Dallas’s pretty face. “Yes. But my brother considers you his lost and found.”

Dallas’s words should have lent her some sort of comfort. After all, what normal woman wouldn’t want to be tucked under the protective wing of a sexy lawman like Brady?

But Lass wasn’t a typical woman. And after experiencing those strange visions a few moments ago, she feared her hopes for a normal future were in jeopardy.

For the remainder of the day, Lass stuck close to the house and generally tried to relax. But that was difficult to do when her head was spinning with the unbidden images she’d experienced at Dallas’s riding stables. Everything about them had scared and confused her and she was desperate to see Brady again. Not only to tell him what had happened, but also to see his smile, to hear his strong voice assuring her that everything would be all right.

She was sitting on a covered porch at the back of the house, two of the family’s pet cats curled at her feet, when she heard footsteps behind her. Expecting it to be Fiona or Kate inviting her in for drinks, she was more than surprised to see Brady.

“Mom told me where you were,” he explained as he approached her chair. “Why are you sitting out here all by yourself?”

Even though he was still in his work clothes, he looked wonderful to her and before she could contain herself, she jumped to her feet and threw herself against his chest.

“Oh, Brady, I’m so glad you’re home!” she practically sobbed.

His face a mixture of pleasure and confusion, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. “Whoa now, Lass, there’s not any need for you to be so worked up. I haven’t had anybody shooting at me today. That was last night.”

Sniffing, she tilted her head back and looked up at him with misty eyes. “I’m sorry for being so … melodramatic, Brady. You must think I’ve lost my mind. And I—” With an anguished groan, she twisted out of his arms and turned her back to him. “I’m afraid I have. I apologize for throwing myself at you like that.”

His low chuckles were suddenly brushing against the back of her neck and suddenly the quivering in the pit of her stomach had nothing to do with fear.

“You think you need to apologize for hugging me? I just wished you’d hung on longer.”

His suggestive remark had her swallowing, fighting the urge to turn to him once more. “I don’t think … that would be wise,” she said, her voice breathy and broken.

“Why?”

She couldn’t summon an answer and then it didn’t matter as his hand pushed the curtain of her long hair to one side and his lips settled softly on the back of her neck.

“Because I might do this,” he whispered against her skin. “Or this?”

With his hands on her shoulders, he turned her toward him and all Lass could do was stand motionless and wait for his kiss.

Chapter Six

Since the night Brady had found her in the ditch and propped her limp body in the circle of his arms, he’d wondered how it would feel to hold this woman in a romantic embrace, imagined how her lips would taste. Yet none of those mental images had come close to the actual thing he was experiencing now.

He knew he should be resisting her. He should remember how vulnerable she was, that she looked to him for protection. But she’d made the first move, and he wasn’t the type to refuse a beautiful woman. Especially not this one.

Tucked close against him, her body felt small and soft and incredibly warm, while her lips tasted like sweet fruit. Ripe. Juicy. Delicious. Her hands were planted against his chest and though her fingers were small, they were sending shock waves of heat straight through the fabric of his shirt and onto his skin.

Brady could have stood there kissing her forever if she’d not finally broke the contact of their lips and squirmed her way out of his arms. And even then, as she stood there looking at him with wide, wondrous eyes, he wanted to gather her back against him, to experience the pleasure of her all over again.

“I’m sorry. I … must have sent you the wrong signal,” she finally said in a raw whisper.

He couldn’t stop a grin from lifting one corner of his mouth. “Which time? When you hugged me? Or when you kissed me?”

Groaning with embarrassment, she covered her mouth with her hand. As though he’d just marked her in some way and she didn’t want him or anyone to see the change in her.

“Both times!” she exclaimed, then dropped her hand and stared at him in a beseeching way. “Please forget that. Every bit of it!”

Brady could see she was deadly serious, but still he couldn’t prevent the low chuckles that rippled up in his throat. She was just too precious, too beautiful. “Are you kidding? I’m not about to forget something that wonderful.”

Her nostrils flared and he watched the rapid rise and fall of her bosom as images of her in bed this morning assaulted his already lust-filled brain. The thin red silk had revealed the exact shape of her nipples, the perfect round curves of her breasts. He’d wanted to touch her then. Just as badly as he wanted to touch her now.

“Brady, I need to explain. I—”

“Lass, there’s no need for you to break apart over a little kiss. You’re carrying on as though you’ve never been kissed before,” he teased in an effort to ease the moment. Clearly she was distressed and he didn’t understand exactly why. He knew enough about women to know when one was enjoying being kissed and Lass had clearly been enjoying it.

She grimaced. “I wouldn’t know! I don’t remember what I’ve done in the past! Or who I’ve done it with,” she practically snapped, then shook her head with dismay. “Forgive me, Brady. I … seem to be breaking apart, don’t I? And I’m trying so hard to hold myself together. But this morning—”

She trailed off and Brady stepped forward and reached for her hand. To his relief, she wrapped her fingers around his and held on tightly.

“What about this morning?” he urged. “Did something happen while I was gone?”

Sighing, she closed her eyes. “I’m not sure. Maybe I’ve worked myself up over nothing,” she told him. “But whatever I saw in my mind won’t go away. That must mean it happened. Wouldn’t you think?”

Not fully understanding what she was trying to say, he led her to a wicker love seat shaded by a curtain of morning glory vines.

“Okay, Lass, start over. Are you trying to tell me that you’ve remembered something?”

She nodded soberly. “I think so. But I’m not sure. I was with Dallas at her stables this morning. Just sitting there watching the children. And then I saw one of the stable helpers tending to a horse and something happened in my head. All of a sudden images were flashing in front of my eyes.”

“What sort of images?”

“A steel-gray horse was being saddled by someone. I don’t know who. The blanket was bright red and the saddle was the English sort. Then the horse was suddenly gone and a man was standing in front of me. He was gripping my wrist. Really hard. And he kept saying over and over, ‘You’re coming with me.’”

Everything inside Brady went still. “Did you recognize this man?”

“No. It was like a dream where you never see the face. It was someone tall with dark hair.”

“What about the voice? Did you recognize it?”

Shaking her head, she said, “It seemed familiar, but I can’t identify it. To be honest, the voice scares me, Brady. I—” She gripped his hand even tighter. “All day it’s been haunting me. Now, after desperately wishing I could remember something, I’m wishing I could forget this.”

Placing his free hand on top of hers, he said, “I wouldn’t put much stock into the whole thing, Lass. Whatever you saw could be something that happened years ago. Or maybe you had a dream last night and it suddenly came to you.”

She didn’t look at all convinced and to be honest Brady found it hard to dismiss her images as dreams. From the small amount of time he’d been around this woman, she didn’t appear to be an airhead or a drama queen. True, she was a bit upset at the moment, but anyone in her predicament had a right to feel unsettled.

“I don’t think so, Brady. I think those were glimmers of things that happened—before I was injured.”

“Could be, Lass. But we won’t know for certain until you have more of them, or I manage to get a toehold on some relevant information. And I hate to tell you, but that hasn’t happened yet. No one at the track seemed to recognize you. A waitress in the club house restaurant thought she recalled seeing you, but she wasn’t sure. When they see hundreds of faces a day, it’s hard to single out one from the crowd.”

“Oh, well,” she said, trying to put a bit of cheer in her voice, “someone might eventually see my picture and identify me. I mean, I couldn’t have come from Mars. Martians don’t wear cowboy boots and Levi’s, do they?”

Glad that she could see a bit of humor in the whole thing, he smiled, then leaned forward and pressed a light kiss against her forehead.

Behind them, a door opened, and Kate made a production of clearing her throat. “The family is having drinks. Are you two going to join us?” she asked.

Knowing this intimate time with Lass was over, at least, for now, Brady rose from the love seat and reached for Lass’s hand.

“Grandma, did anyone ever tell you that your timing is rotten?”

Kate grinned. “Looks to me like my timing was perfect. I saved Lass from your clutches.”

Easing his arm around Lass’s waist, he urged her toward Kate and a door that would take them back into the house. “What’s wrong with my clutches?” he asked his grandmother. “Lass just might like them.”

With a good-natured snort, Kate turned and entered the door before them. “She’s too smart a girl for that, sonny.”

Lass was quickly learning that dinner at the Donovans’ was a special affair. Tonight, Opal, the family’s longtime cook, had prepared prime rib, and as each course was served, the conversation seemed to change to a different subject. By the time dishes of strawberry torte arrived for dessert, Conall was giving a production report of a gold mine that belonged to their sister, Maura. Since the elder brother was manager of the Golden Spur’s operations and part of the profit was distributed to the whole family, it was a subject that held everyone’s attention.

Except Brady, it seemed. He seemed more interested in Lass than anything and each time he turned his twinkling eyes on her, her mind insisted on replaying the kiss he’d given her on the back porch.

What had prompted him to do such a thing? But then what had been behind her behavior? The moment he’d walked onto the porch, she’d thrown herself at him like some sort of starved lover. Was that the way she normally acted around attractive men? Before she’d lost her memory had she been promiscuous?

No, Lass refused to believe that. Deep down, she felt certain it wasn’t her nature to casually jump into a sexual relationship with a man. She hadn’t felt anything for Hank, or the doctors or even Conall. So she couldn’t exactly understand what had come over her with Brady. Except that all day long she’d been desperate to see him, talk with him. She’d certainly not had kissing the man on her mind. She’d been all wound up about those memory flashes and then when he’d finally shown up, relief and joy had shot her straight to his arms, nothing more. Now he was looking at her as though she was part of the dessert. And all she could think about was the magic she’d felt when his lips had touched hers, the way his hands had caressed and pulled her close.

For the remainder of the meal, she tried to push the whole incident out of her mind and by the time everyone finished dessert, she’d convinced herself that she was being silly to dwell on one little kiss. Brady hadn’t taken it seriously and neither should she.

As everyone filed out of the dining room, Brady excused himself to make an important phone call. Since it was still too early to retire to her room, Lass followed Kate and Brady’s parents to the family room.

While Kate played a medley of Irish folk songs on the piano and Fiona and Doyle started up a card game, Lass picked up a newspaper and began to scan the headlines.

She was reading about a government proposal to bring aid to drought-stricken ranchers, when Brady eased a hip onto the arm of her chair.

“Catching up on the news?” he asked.

She glanced at him, while wishing her heart wouldn’t jump into high gear every time the man drew within ten feet of her. “Trying,” she admitted, then gave him an encouraging smile. “You know, when I started reading the headlines, I realized that I remembered who our president is and most of our national officials. Strange, that I can remember something like that, but not my own parents.”

His brows peaked with interest, and he gestured toward the paper. “Were there any stories in there that sparked your memory? A town? A name?”

“Not really. But that’s not surprising. I’m obviously not a local.” A thoughtful frown puckered her forehead. “When I look at some of the addresses listed on these advertisements, I keep thinking I should see a TX rather than NM.”

“So you’re thinking you might be from Texas?”

Nodding stiffly, she said, “I’m hardly certain of that. It’s just a gut feeling.” As she looked at him her eyes suddenly widened. “Brady, maybe I had a rental car! You could trace it! Or perhaps I flew in from Texas to the Ruidoso airport? Will they have records?”

“I’ve questioned the staff at the airport. None of them recalled seeing you. As for passenger records, the personnel at the airport has promised to go through them, but since we don’t have your name, it’s impossible to know when you arrived, or even if you arrived by plane. So that effort might not lead to any sort of productive information. Hank has already checked all the car rental places in town. Nothing there. So that means you probably took a taxi. We’ve left your photo with all the cab services. But I’m not expecting much to evolve there. There are simply too many tourists and strange faces in town and a cabbie would’ve only seen you for few short minutes at the most. Plus there’s still the possibility that someone else drove you to the track.”

“Someone else drove me to the track,” she repeated blankly. “Like who? If I was with a friend or relative where are they now? Why did they leave me on that mountain road?”

“I understand that possibility doesn’t make sense to you, Lass. But as a lawman, I have to go at things from every angle. Some person you met in town could have simply offered you a ride to the track out of kindness, then left town after the races.”

“I see,” she murmured, while wondering why this news left her feeling so confused. She wanted Brady to discover her real identity, didn’t she? Of course, she did. Her whole life was missing. And yet, a part of her didn’t want to return to who she’d been before. A part of her wanted to start her life right here. Right now. With him. Oh, God, what was happening to her?

“Come on, you’ve worried about all that stuff enough for one day. Do you feel like a walk?”

Grateful that he understood she needed a break from the turmoil going round in her head, she smiled at him. “I’d love to take a walk.”

He helped her from the chair, then ushered her out of the room before his parents or grandmother even noticed they were leaving. At the end of a long hallway, near a door composed of paned windows, he snatched a white shawl from a rack on the wall.

“You might get a little cool,” he explained as he draped the crocheted lace around her shoulders. “Mom won’t mind if you borrow her shawl.”

Swallowing nervously, she focused on the front of his pale yellow shirt instead of his face. “Thank you, Brady.”

“My pleasure.”

When they stepped outside, Lass could see they were at the side of the house. It was shaded deeply by tall ponderosa pines, but footlights illuminated a graveled path leading to the front and back of the huge rock structure.

“Let’s go to the backyard,” he suggested as he splayed a hand against her back. “Have you been down to the pool yet?”

“No. I’ve only gotten as far as the porch,” she admitted.

He ushered her forward and they began to slowly walk abreast. He’d been right about the air turning cool. The temperature felt as though it had dropped several degrees, but the touch of his hand felt so hot against her, it chased any chilliness away.

Breathing deeply, she tried not to think of his nearness or the way it had felt to kiss him.

“Do you like living here with the rest of your family?” she asked as they strolled along a walkway of loose river gravel.

“I can’t imagine living anywhere else.” He darted a glance at her. “That probably sounds like I lack ambition, doesn’t it? You’re probably wondering why a man like me doesn’t want a place of his own.”

“I’m not wondering anything like that,” she admitted. “I see a man who loves his family.”

“Hmm. That’s true. But I don’t hang around here because I’m too green to cut the apron strings.”

Lass smiled in the darkness. Green was the exact opposite of the image he portrayed, she thought. He was strong, brave and independent. The exact opposite of … whom? For a split second, a man’s image almost popped into her head, but it was so fleeting and her mind so weary, she didn’t bother to try to catch it.

“I would never think that,” she assured him.

His hand moved downward until his fingers were curled snugly around the side of her waist. “You’re being very polite.”

“I’m not just being polite. I’m being honest.”

He chuckled then. “Well, I guess to the outward person my brothers and I look like mama’s boys. But that’s not the case at all. Conall and Liam run the ranch operations. Without all their work, Dad wouldn’t be able to retire and enjoy these years with Mom. And me, well, I don’t do ranch work on a day-to-day basis, but I help as much as I can.”

“That’s something I’ve been curious about,” Lass told him. “Why did you become a lawman? Particularly, when your brothers are ranchers like your father.”

They walked for several yards before he finally answered and by then they’d entered a garden filled with ornamental bushes and low, blooming flowers. The graveled path had turned to stepping stones and the sweet smell of honeysuckle filled the night air.

Brady paused to face her. “I’m lucky, Lass. From the time we were young children, our father has always encouraged us to follow our own dreams. If that meant something other than raising thoroughbreds, then that was okay with him.”

“You don’t like working with horses?”

There was a perplexed frown on her face, as though she couldn’t imagine anyone opposing such a job. It made Brady realize just how much she loved horses and that she’d no doubt been involved in the equine business in some form or fashion. But that was a wide-ranging possibility that included farms, ranches, tracks, trainers, stables and veterinarians, coupled with all the offshoot jobs from those businesses. Unless she remembered something helpful, finding her identity was going to be like searching for one tiny mosquito in the middle of a giant swamp.

Keeping that worrisome thought to himself, he said, “Oh, sure. I love horses. But I never had that special touch with them. Not the way my father and brothers have always had. They understand what a horse is thinking and planning way before the horse even knows it. And I … well, I learned the hard way. By being bit or kicked or bucked off. You get the picture. But that didn’t matter. I just happened to have other ideas about my career. And it wasn’t breeding or racing horses.”

She nodded that she understood his independence wasn’t born out of retaliation. “How did you decide you wanted to be a lawman? You have other relatives in the business?”

He chuckled. “I wish. Then everyone wouldn’t look at me like I’m the lone wolf of the bunch.” Curling his arm around her shoulder, he once again urged her forward. “Actually, I first planned to be a lawyer. A horse farm of this size always needs legal work and I liked the idea of laying out rules and regulations.”

“A lawyer,” she repeated with faint amazement. “I can’t imagine you in a courtroom.”

“No? Well, Grandma could imagine me in that role. She said I could argue better than anyone she knew,” he teased. “But after I started college it didn’t take me very long to realize I didn’t want to be confined behind four walls for the rest of my life.”

“So you quit college and went to work for the sheriff’s department?”

“Not exactly,” he answered. “I went to work part-time for the sheriff’s department, did my rookie training and continued earning a degree in criminal justice during my off hours. All of it together was tough going for a while. But now I’m glad I put out the effort.” With a wry smile, he glanced down at her. “I took the long way about answering a simple question, didn’t I? So I’ve talked enough about myself. Let’s talk about you.”

By now they had reached a long, oval-shaped pool surrounded by footlights. The crystal clear water sparkled invitingly and as she stared at the depths, she envisioned herself in a similar pool, the water slipping cool against her arms, the night air above her hot and humid. She tried to hang on to the image, to memorize every detail, but like before, it was gone almost as quickly as it came and with a frustrated sigh, she said, “We can’t talk about me, Brady. I don’t know anything about me.”

Seeing the whole thing disturbed her, Brady urged her over to a flowered lounge positioned a few feet from the edge of the pool. After she took a seat on the end of the long chair, he sank next to her and reached for her hand.

“I’m sorry, Lass. I wasn’t thinking. Damn it, I’ve never been around anyone who can’t remember who they are and I keep forgetting to watch my words. Everything I say seems to put a glaring light on your predicament.”

Shaking her head, she stared pensively into the darkness. “That’s all right. I don’t want you to watch your words around me, Brady. I want you to be yourself. I don’t want you to try to isolate or cushion me from reality. I’m tougher than you think. Really I am.”

Brady couldn’t stop his hands from wrapping around her slender shoulders or turning her toward him. There was something sweetly endearing about her that pulled at everything inside of him. Something about the trusting look in her gray eyes that made him want to be her protector, her hero, her everything.

“Tough is not the way I’d describe you, Lass,” he said lowly. The holes in the crocheted shawl exposed patches of skin to his hands. The soft feel of it excited him, almost as much as gazing at the moist curves of her lips. “Strong. But not tough.”

Her lashes fluttered demurely against her cheeks. “Brady, we came out here for a walk,” she pointed out. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re sitting.”

He rubbed the top of his forefinger beneath her chin and swallowed as the urge to kiss her threatened to overtake his senses.

He murmured, “As a deputy of this county, I can assure you that sitting isn’t a crime.”

The tip of her tongue slipped out to nervously moisten her top lip. “Brady, that kiss … earlier—”

“Yes?”

“I don’t think we should repeat it.”

She looked confused and worried and for the first time in his life, Brady felt a bit of unease himself. Which didn’t make any sense. Kissing a beautiful woman had never concerned him before. He didn’t know why it should give him second thoughts now. But kissing Lass had been different, he realized. So different that he wanted to do it over. He wanted to make sure it had actually felt that amazing.

“Why?”

Her mouth fell open. “You have to ask? Brady, I can’t even tell you my name! I don’t even know how old I am!”

He cupped his palm against the side of her face as his thoughts rolled back to the night he’d found her lying lifelessly in the ditch. When she’d finally regained consciousness and he’d sheltered her in his arms, he’d experienced some very unprofessional feelings and since he’d gotten to know her, those unprofessional feelings had only deepened. Hell, that was enough to scare any tried and true bachelor. But it didn’t scare him enough to make him rise to his feet and walk away from her.

“Of course you can tell me your name,” he insisted. “It’s Lass.”

“Only temporarily.”

Ignoring that, he said, “And you certainly look old enough to kiss.”

She sighed. “Kate says you’re somewhat of a ladies’ man.”

He grimaced. “Grandma has a motormouth.”

“Then she was speaking the truth?”

Since she wasn’t trying to pull away, Brady made the most of the close proximity by delving his fingers into her silky hair, sliding them downward through the long strands.

“Look, Lass, I’m not going to pretend I’ve been some sort of saint. Especially when—”

“When I can’t even tell you what I’ve been,” she finished miserably. Then biting her bottom lip, she looked away. “I’m sorry, Brady. I had no right to question you about your past. Not when mine is a complete blank.”

“Lass, Lass,” he softly scolded, “no one has to give me your résumé for me to know that you are and were a lady. And in spite of what Grandma says about me, I’m a gentleman.”

Her eyes softened and then to Brady’s amazement, her face drew near to his. “Yes, I think you are,” she whispered.

The moment their lips touched, Brady realized he’d made a mistake. Her kiss didn’t just taste amazing; the sensations went far deeper than that. Like tremors of an earthquake, waves of pleasure vibrated through him, urged him to crush her close, to search out the mysterious sweetness of her lips.

Seconds could have passed or minutes, he didn’t know, but suddenly he felt her arms go around his neck and the sign of surrender brought a groan of triumph deep in his throat. Her lips parted wider and he took advantage, slipping his tongue past their sweet curves and into the honeyed cavity of her mouth.

The intimate connection caused his head to reel and before he could get a grip on his senses, their surroundings began to float away. His hands began to urgently roam her body, his lips fought to totally capture hers and in the process he forgot everything but making love to the woman in his arms.

Until her hands slipped to his shoulders and pushed, her lips abruptly jerked away from his.

The sudden break jolted him and as he attempted to gather himself together, he wanted to ask her what was wrong, why had she interrupted something so incredible.

But one look at her face answered those questions for him. The two of them had been on the verge of losing control, of making love right here beside the pool. And she wasn’t all that happy about it.

Pushing a tangle of hair from her eyes, she said in a husky voice, “I think we’ve ‘walked’ enough for one night. Don’t you?”

Did she really expect him to answer that? He looked away from her and drew in several long, mind-cleansing breaths. What was happening here? He wasn’t supposed to want Lass this much. He wasn’t supposed to want any woman this much.

Rising from the chair, he reached for her hand. “You’re right, Lass. We’d better go in. Before our walk turns into a run.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.