Emergency Contact. Susan Peterson
she was so afraid of him, why had she gotten in his car in the first place? She could have kept running, headed off into one of the fields where the car couldn’t go. She knew she was fast. She could have outrun him easy.
Tess shook her head and sat up. Who was she kidding? She might be fast, but something told her that Ryan Donovan was faster. When she’d brushed up against him in the cornfield, she hadn’t missed the hardness of his body, the glide of smooth, well-conditioned muscles beneath the suit coat. It was a body built for speed and endurance. If Ryan wanted, Tess had a feeling he could run her to the ground.
Grabbing the door handle, she climbed out. A warm breeze cut across the field and ruffled her hair. She could take off now and he’d never know. Instead, she hit the door with her hip, and, as it swung shut, she headed up the path to the house.
When she stepped inside, the coolness of the interior hit her hot skin and she almost whimpered with appreciation. She hadn’t realized how hot and irritable she’d gotten.
She couldn’t see Ryan, but she could hear him upstairs walking around. She jumped when something cold and wet pressed against her hand. Glancing down, she stared into a pair of warm brown eyes. A chocolate Lab, his body wiggling with delight nosed her again.
“Hey, boy.” She ran a hand gently over his broad head, stroking the silky ears. “What’s your name?”
“That’s Jung,” Ryan’s called from upstairs. “He’s friendly. In fact, he’d probably open the door for strangers and invite them in if he knew how.”
Tess froze in the doorway, her cautiousness returning. But Ryan didn’t reappear at the top of the stairs. Instead, he continued to rummage around upstairs.
She edged her way into the living room, Jung close on her heels. It was a cozy and surprisingly neat room for a bachelor. An oversize stuffed couch that looked brand-new and two equally new-looking easy chairs occupied most of the floor space.
An ancient-looking cuckoo clock with an elaborate wood-carved design sat in one corner and a battered lounger was strategically located in front of the TV. Apparently, Ryan hadn’t been able to ditch all his belongings from his previous home.
“Contrary to the worn-out look of the La-Z-Boy, I swear I’m not the type who comes home from work every night and collapses in front of mindless TV sitcoms.”
Startled, Tess whipped around to find Ryan standing at the bottom of the stairs, a few inches away. His ability to get down the stairs and within inches of her without her hearing him surprised her. Something told her that her reflexes were slower than usual.
He had changed out of the well-cut, carefully tailored suit and into a pair of soft, faded jeans and shirt. In the narrow hall, his size was slightly intimidating. He towered over her, his muscular body pressing in on her, making her consciously aware of his size and strength. No weak academic-type body here. This man was built like a fighter.
He smiled and jerked his head toward the back of the house.
“Let me fire up the grill, and then I’ll show you around.”
Tess nodded silently, following him out through a small kitchen to the glass patio doors. The surprise was the presence of an in-ground pool. Invitingly clear water lapped the edges of the blue tiles lining the sides and bottom of the pool.
Ryan must have seen the gleam in her eyes because he asked, “How about a swim? You can cool off while I cook us some dinner.”
Tess shook her head. “No, that’s okay. I’ll help make dinner.” But her eyes lingered on the gentle ripple of turquoise water.
Ryan laughed and slid open the patio door. He walked over to the fence where a row of beach towels and bathing suits hung in the sun.
He grabbed a fire-engine-red suit and a fluffy beach towel off the fence and walked back over. “Here. It’s my sister’s suit. It should fit. She and her kids were over last weekend testing out the pool and making general pests of themselves. You can change in the bathroom—down the hall and to the right.”
Without waiting for an answer, he went into the kitchen and started rummaging around in the refrigerator.
Tess stood in the doorway and watched him pull a steak out of the meat drawer. He slapped it on a platter and then grabbed a pepper grinder and efficiently ground out a healthy amount of pepper on top of the red meat. He opened a drawer and removed a pair of grill tongs.
When he glanced in her direction, he raised an eyebrow. “Still here? I thought you’d be changed by now.”
“Your sister lives nearby?”
Ryan nodded. “She lives in town, across the street from my mom.” He turned around and scooped up a box of kitchen matches off a tiny shelf over the stove. “She used to live in Des Moines. But she got a divorce about a year ago and moved home to be nearer the family.”
“Have you always been close?”
Ryan nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We fought like crazy when we were little, but we were always close.” He reached into another drawer and pulled out a paring knife. “Does your family live near you?”
Tess shook her head. “My dad’s dead. He died when I was twelve. I don’t have any sisters or brothers.”
She watched as Ryan took a clove of garlic out of a basket and started peeling it. “Your mom still alive?” Ryan asked.
Tess shook her head no, mesmerized by the flashing of the knife blade as he chopped the garlic with cheflike speed. “She died five years ago, shortly after I graduated from college.” She swallowed against the dryness in her throat, unable to tear her gaze away from the shine of the knife. “My dad, he would have been proud of me graduating from college.”
“Where did you go to school?” Ryan asked, his voice casual. He used one finger to sweep the tiny buds of garlic clinging to the blade onto the cutting board.
“I went to—”
The cuckoo clock in the living room crowed and Tess jumped. Startled, she stared up into the intense blue of Ryan’s eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing all the time.
“You did it again, didn’t you?” she whispered. “You got me to remember without me even realizing it.”
He shrugged those big shoulders. “No real trick to it, Tess. You were simply ready to tell me those things. You weren’t even aware you were saying them, and that made all the difference in the world. In your head, you were simply sharing a normal, everyday conversation with me.”
Tess leaned against the counter and watched as he drizzled a few drops of olive oil on top of the steak. He sprinkled the minced garlic over the meat and rubbed it all in. She liked watching his quick, self-assured movements. Somehow they infused her with a feeling of warmth and comfort.
“I still don’t understand,” she said.
“The ease with which you accessed the information is a good sign. It means your memories are intact, that they’re simply waiting for you to recover them.”
“Then why can’t I simply recover them?”
He smiled gently. “It isn’t as easy as all that. You have to give your brain time to recover—to mend itself. The memories will come when they’re ready.”
He reached over and turned on the hot water, and she watched as he washed his hands. Hands that had manipulated the knife just as brilliantly as his sharp mind had manipulated her brain. Wetting her suddenly dry lips, she watched him lather on the soap and then quickly rinse it off. Intriguing man, this Dr. Ryan Donovan.
He shut off the water and picked up the steak platter. “Now go change and take your swim. I’ll put the steak on in about five minutes. Dinner in twenty.”
Before Tess could answer, the phone rang.
Ryan picked it up. “Hello…? Hello?”