Found: His Perfect Wife. Marie Ferrarella
Needing something to do, she crossed to the window, opening it. The room hadn’t been aired out since their cousin had come to spend the holidays with them last Christmas. “Sorry, that was harsh. I shouldn’t have said that.”
She needed to be moving all the time. Was that because she had so much energy to spare, or was she trying to outdistance something? There’d been a note in her voice he couldn’t quite recognize. Not that, he thought, he’d recognize a hell of a whole lot right now.
“Why not?”
“Because I just shouldn’t have.” Why couldn’t he leave it at that? It was his mind they needed to explore, not hers. “Besides, you’re a stranger.”
“And your husband wouldn’t like you talking to strangers,” he guessed.
“I’m not married.” He probably didn’t make the connection, or remember at any rate. “I live here, remember?”
Luc watched her fuss with the bedspread. “Yes, it’s just that I thought maybe you lived here with your husband. You sounded so adamant just now, about marriage.”
She had, too. Probably too adamant. Alison ran her hand along her neck, trying to lighten the moment. “It’s been a rough day. I was almost mugged.”
His eyes met hers. Humor glinted in them. “Yeah, I know.”
It felt as if his eyes were touching her. Air became thick in her throat, almost solidifying. She turned away, unsettled by the pull she felt. “There’s a tiny bathroom in the back. No shower, but you can wash your hands. I know it’s not much, but—”
“I don’t need much,” he assured her. There was no need to apologize. She and her brother were being more than kind, taking in a stranger. “And I appreciate you and your brothers letting me stay here.”
The image of a small room, dark but warm, flashed through his brain, remaining in less time than it took to identify it.
Alison touched his arm, drawing his attention back into the room above the garage. “What is it?”
He blinked, trying to focus. Aware only of the fact that she was standing very close to him again. And that she wore a fragrance that reminded him of—what? “Hmm?”
“You just had a very strange look on your face. Did you just remember something?”
“A half of something,” he allowed. “A room.” He turned around slowly, taking in the details of the room for the first time. The room in his mind had been cheerier. “Kind of like this. It was dark. Outside,” he realized, “it was dark.”
“Nighttime,” she guessed.
He was about to agree, then stopped. “No, it wasn’t. It was daytime.”
Then why was it dark? “A storm?” Or maybe his mind was playing tricks on him.
It sounded like a logical guess, but he couldn’t really say for sure. “I don’t know.”
Her heart went out to him. In his place, she wouldn’t have known if she could stand it as calmly as he was. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be plying you with questions. It’s just that I keep thinking if I ask the right one, suddenly everything’ll come back to you.”
He smiled, grateful for her help. She made him feel less alone. “It beats you hitting me on the head, hoping that might jar the thoughts back into my brain.”
She’d seen a cartoon like that once. Maybe, subconsciously, he was remembering the same one. “If everything else fails, maybe we’ll fall back on that.” She remembered Kevin giving Luc money for dinner. She’d forgotten to stop at the store. “Why don’t you follow me into the house and we can see what there is in the refrigerator to heat up?” If she was lucky, Lily had stopped by to stock it for them.
“Sounds like a plan, and since I don’t seem to have any previous engagements that I’m aware of, I happen to be free.” He opened the door and waited for her to step through.
Something sizzled in her veins as she did so. Surprised, she suppressed it.
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