You Must Remember This. Marilyn Pappano
disappointed that it’d been cut short. Sultry. No one had ever called her anything even remotely close.
She ordered pop, and so did Martin, and she followed his lead in ordering dinner: burger with cheese and spicy fries. When the waitress brought their drinks a moment later, Juliet scanned the room. Martin seemed to be the only man in the place without a long-necked beer clutched in one hand. Not that he needed beer to prove his masculinity. He could walk to the bar and order a glass of warm milk, and no one would have the nerve to say a word about it. “Do you drink?”
“Occasionally, but I have to be careful not to overdo. It’s too big a risk for me.”
“Do you think that, or do you know it?”
“I know it.” He didn’t offer an explanation of how he knew, just a grim, almost bleak look and the slow, unconscious stroking of his fingers over the scar on his left arm. Souvenir of a drunken barroom brawl? Maybe he’d been an alcoholic in his previous life, or someone else important in that life had had a drinking problem.
“What did you do this afternoon?” she asked, seeking any mundane topic of conversation that could chase away the sorrow in his eyes.
“I’m doing a little work at one of the churches—some stripping, painting, minor remodeling.”
“I thought you weren’t a carpenter.”
“I’m not, but I’m cheap, and the church doesn’t have much money. I just follow the pastor’s directions, and he prays for the best.”
“Sometimes that’s all it takes.”
The music went quiet as, across the room, a young man bent over a guitar and tuned the instrument. There were others on the bandstand with him, kids who looked too young to drink where they played. After a few minutes fiddling with the instruments, the band was ready. Without ado, the young man stepped up to the microphone and eased into the first song.
“The bands around here are usually kids from the college,” Martin said. “Some of them are pretty good.”
Grand Springs College was a small school that co-owned the library with the city. They provided Juliet with Internet access both on and off the job and had tempted her with the possibility of earning a graduate degree someday. At least it would be something to fill her evenings.
Even if she preferred filling them this way.
“Do you like to dance?”
There were only a few couples on the dance floor, couples much better acquainted with each other than she and Martin. They must be, to get so close, to move so intimately. Her cheeks turning pink, she looked back at him. “Actually, I don’t know how.”
“What do you mean you don’t know how? Didn’t you go to your high school dances?”
“I was on the decorating committee for both the homecoming dance and the prom, but no, I didn’t go.”
“Why not?”
The pink in her face turned red. “No one asked me, and frankly, if anyone had, I would have turned him down.”
“Were you too shy to date?”
She nodded, though “too shy to get anyone’s attention” was more like it.
“I think I probably liked shy girls.”
Although she was convinced he was wrong—he’d probably been the captain of the football team, and he’d probably dated the pretty, perky, every-boy’s-dream head cheerleader—she humored him. “Why do you think that?”
“Because there’s something damned appealing about the women they become.”
Her flush turned to heat—lazy, indolent, seeping into every pore, warming her blood, threatening to steam. If she could swallow, she would. If she could pick up her pop for a cooling drink without making the glass sizzle, she would. If she could come up with something smart or provocative or witty to offer in response… Smart she knew-provocative and witty she didn’t—and smart said don’t make assumptions. Don’t fall for a line. Keep it business.
She was seeking something perfectly businesslike to say when he spoke again. “I can teach you to dance.”
Her gaze shot to the couples on the floor, each holding the other so close that there wasn’t room for a breath between them. She’d never been that close to a man in her life unless they were both naked and doing something wild. To get that close—even fully dressed and in public—to Martin required more courage and grace than she’d ever possessed. “I couldn’t.”
“Of course you could.” He rose from the table, took her hand and pulled her to the edge of the dance floor. “Put your arms around my neck and come closer…closer…. Relax…just let me move and you follow. It’s as easy as sex—”
God was in heaven, and he took pity on her. The song ended, and the band moved without pause into the next, a rousing tune that required more dexterity than her feet were capable of. Gratefully, she pulled free of Martin and returned to the booth. His expression as he sat down opposite was part regret, part teasing. “You do indulge in sex from time to time, don’t you?”
Wide-eyed, she stared at him. Not in a long time, too long, and never with a man like him.
“Oh, well, next time,” he said as the waitress set plates in front of them.
Next time. She’d waited all her life for this time. With her luck, next time would never come.
The food was good, the music by turns loud or low and mournful. She ate, watched everyone but Martin and tried to think of something to say. When the silence was finally broken, though, it was by Martin. “What would you rather be doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“You look like you’re a million miles away. Doing what? And with whom?”
He sounded defensive, which made her answer with more honesty than she normally would have offered. “Looking for something to talk about. With you. I never really developed a talent for small talk. I learned to speak when I had something to say and not to chatter the rest of the time.”
“So let’s talk computers. You can tell me all about them.”
“Except that you don’t want to learn all about them. Your interests are more physical. Active. Outdoors.”
He grinned. “I don’t know about the outdoors part, but I do like physical and active.” His sexy grin spelled out for her exactly what he was referring to, then he controlled it. “That’s the thing about amnesia. You never know what your interests are or how they stack up against what they used to be. I like spicy food. Did I always, or is this something new? I have a weakness for blue-eyed blondes. Has that always been true, or before the accident did I prefer green-eyed redheads? Did I like country music and wear suits and work nine to five, or would I have chosen smashing a steel guitar over listening to one?”
“You may never know.”
He shook his head adamantly. “No. I can’t live with that.”
“You may have no choice, Martin.”
“No. I at least have to know if I’m—” Breaking off, he shook his head again.
If he was married? If he was a criminal? If he was someone he could bear to be? She regretted that she had no answers for him.
“Are you ready?”
“Let me stop by the ladies’ room.” She had to cross the dance floor and circle the opposite end of the bar to reach the narrow hall that led to the bathrooms. On her return trip, she didn’t make it to the end of the hall before a cowboy with the requisite beer blocked her path.
“Whoa there, darlin’. The evenin’ is young. No one’s in a hurry.”
“Excuse me.” She stepped to one side, but he blocked her again.