Slow Burn. Jamie Denton Ann
3
FROM THE passenger seat of Cale’s red four-wheel-drive pickup, Maggie watched the passing scenery along Ocean Boulevard. Regardless of how thin a chance, she’d still hoped something—a building, a tree, maybe even a street sign or billboard—would pull her memory out of hiding.
“Nothing is familiar,” she told Cale as he came to a stop behind a line of cars waiting for the traffic light to turn green.
He glanced her way, then took her by surprise when he reached across the bench seat to slip his hand over hers, as if touching her was something he did all the time. Her body said otherwise. When he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, delightful little shockwaves traveled up her arm and shot straight to the tips of her breasts with electrifying accuracy.
“Did you expect otherwise?” he asked, his voice one of concern, not lust.
Too bad.
“Hoped is more like it.” She removed her hand from beneath his to slip a nonexistent stray lock of hair behind her ear. She didn’t think she was unaccustomed to being touched, which left only one other option. Her desire for physical distance, however minute, stemmed from something much more basic…like an inexplicable sexual attraction to a total stranger. Her life, such as it was, was complicated enough and she should definitely not compound her problems by allowing her hormones to run amuck. Just because her guide in an unfamiliar world was sexier than any man had a right to be, and was able to make her breath still with one slanted look or a gentle touch, did not put him on her agenda.
Cale turned his attention back to the road and moved forward with the rest of the traffic. “You’re not supposed to force your memories. When your memory does return, it’ll be in its own time.”
She let out a sigh and looked out the window again. “I know.” She might not like it, but Cale was right. He only repeated what the doctors had been telling her for the last few days. Still, it unnerved her that he appeared to possess an uncanny ability to read her mind. An interesting concept, she mused, since her mind was pretty much a blank page.
At least she was out of the hospital and not in a long-term care facility. No matter how diplomatic Mrs. Sutter had been in her explanation, the place she’d described had just screamed loony bin. Maggie wasn’t crazy or even mentally incompetent, she just didn’t know her identity.
“I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done,” she blurted, anxious for a break from her own morose thoughts. “I’m not even sure how to begin to repay you.”
Just as she realized exactly what she’d implied, he glanced her way again. Surely she didn’t imagine the way his gaze swept over her. Only her own twisted imagination could spark the dozen or so lurid images running through her mind with the speed of light. Her throat should never have felt drier than dust, either, and her pulse rate couldn’t have increased. But she’d felt every ounce of those tell-tale physiological changes in her body, just because she’d imagined Cale looking at her with blatant male appreciation in his gaze. At least that was her argument, until she witnessed the adorable grin that tugged his lips and deepened the laugh lines surrounding his eyes. At that moment, she knew it hadn’t been her imagination, just as she knew the sudden acceleration of her heartbeat was as real as it got.
“There’s no thanks necessary.” He shifted his attention back to the road. “If you can cook, that’ll be payment enough. I get kinda tired of my own cooking.”
A wry grin touched her lips. “I guess we’ll have to see, won’t we?”
She didn’t feel completely comfortable intruding on Cale’s life, but as he’d so eloquently stated, it was either him or the funny farm. By accepting his very generous offer, she’d be free to come and go as she pleased, and she hoped to find out a thing or two or three about her past. So what if she’d have to leave the proverbial trail of bread crumbs to find her way home again? At least she had freedom, and that had to count for something.
Shortly after they entered the city limits of Hermosa Beach, Cale took a left off Ocean Boulevard into a residential district, which brought them even closer to the shores of the Pacific Ocean. After several more turns, Cale slowed and pulled into a sloped driveway, parking in front of a two-car garage with a roll-up door painted a hideous shade of turquoise.
Above the garage was the house, in a much more pleasing-to-the-eye shade of dove-gray siding, however, the trim and the concrete staircase leading up to the house were the same garish color as the garage door. Flanking the driveway were two planters made of railroad ties. They were filled with shrubs in dire need of TLC before they completely lost the battle being pitifully waged against a determined army of dandelions.
“It’s a work in progress,” Cale said with a nod toward the house.
She glanced around the area. The well-kept homes only yards from the beach, whether modest in size or more elaborate and ornate, spoke of prime real estate. “Nice neighborhood.”
Cale chuckled. “Don’t be too impressed. I pull in a decent salary, but not enough to afford something like this on my own. Thanks to my aunt, the lawyers handling my folks’ probate set up a trust fund for me and my brothers.”
So he had family. She wondered what these brothers of his would say about her living with Cale, albeit temporarily. If she’d brought home a total stranger…
If she’d brought home a total stranger—what? The answer faded away into the misty remnants of her mind before she had a chance to catch it, filling her with renewed frustration.
Cale snagged the plastic bag containing her few personal items before opening the door to the truck. The soothing scent of the sea instantly slipped inside. She pulled in a deep breath and waited, hoping for another spark of some distant memory, only to be further disappointed. Somehow she knew the sea comforted her. She only wished she knew why.
With yet another gusty sigh, she opened her door and slid from the truck to follow Cale up the turquoise steps. “What did your parents do?” she asked, as he slipped the key into the lock.
He looked back at her before pushing open the door. There was no mistaking the hint of sadness in his eyes. “They were both firefighters.” Had he been a child when his parents had passed away? Could that be why he’d taken her in so easily, because he had firsthand experience of suddenly finding himself alone in the world?
Before she could ask him, he abruptly changed the subject. “I hope you like animals,” he said as he opened the door.
No fear climbed up her spine at the thought of facing an animal, so she simply shrugged and followed Cale inside. The sound of clicking toenails on a newly finished hardwood floor greeted them and they were met by a very large, furry black dog of an indeterminate breed. The dog jumped around Cale, filled with excitement.
“Maggie, meet Pearl.” To the dog he said, “You be a good girl.”
Pearl immediately sat, tongue lolling out of her mouth with an expectant look in her enormous brown eyes as she stared at Maggie.
She took a hesitant step forward, her left hand extended for Pearl to sniff. Instead of a cold nose, a warm tongue lapped at her hand. Pearl’s oddly short bushy tail polished the floor with record speed.
“Oh, she’s sweet,” Maggie said, smiling up at Cale. That look was in his eyes again, the one that held a combination of awe and desire. Her pulse revved again. Needing a moment to remind herself that feeling all warm and fuzzy inside was not the wisest course, she flipped her attention back to Pearl. The canine’s lips were pulled back as she showed off a set of lethal-looking teeth.
“I don’t think she likes me,” she said, unsure whether or not to take a giant step backward.
Cale chuckled. “Of course she does.”
Maggie pasted a smile on her face and hoped the dog took it as a sign of friendship. “Then why is she snarling at me?”
“She’s not snarling, she’s smiling.”
Maggie