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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.”
Chapter Seven
He’d been wrong to kiss Lass.
The next morning, as Brady drove south to the Mescalero Apache Indian Reservation, that dismal thought continued to swirl through his head. He’d misjudged the whole thing and instead of it being a pleasant little connection of the lips, the kiss had turned out to be a heated embrace that had turned him on his ear and left her strangely quiet for the remainder of the evening.
Now, all he could do was relive the experience over and over in his mind and wonder what it all meant. That the two of them had great chemistry together? There was no doubt about that. But he’d dated attractive women before and some of those occasions had turned into overnight delights. Yet he could easily admit that nothing about those unions had messed with his thinking or left him in such a mental fog. Lass was doing something to him. Something that he didn’t understand or want to acknowledge.
Sighing, he glanced over to the empty seat of the pickup truck outfitted with a two-way radio, weapons and other police equipment. This morning he’d left Hank back in Ruidoso, scouring the more popular restaurants and motels where Lass might be remembered by the staff.
Normally, a case like hers wouldn’t receive this much investigative work from the sheriff’s department. Instead, Lass’s case would have fallen under the health and welfare services. But thankfully Sheriff Hamilton had agreed with Brady that the circumstances surrounding Lass’s amnesia smelled of criminal mischief and needed to be resolved.
Brady had no idea how long Ethan would keep the case open or how much time and manpower he would expend toward it. With county cost a factor, Brady knew the search couldn’t last forever. He couldn’t imagine having to tell Lass the effort to find her home and family had to come to an end. In fact, if it came down to it, Brady would use his own resources to find Lass’s identity.
But he prayed to God before any of that happened, something would turn up. Or even better, Lass would start to remember. Until then, Brady had his work cut out for him. Not only to find Lass’s past, but to also keep his growing attraction for the woman in a proper perspective. And his hands to himself.
Yeah, right, he thought, as he turned down the bumpy dirt road to the Chino homestead. That was like telling himself to quit eating whenever he was hungry.
Johnny Chino was two years older than Brady and had lived with his grandparents, Charlie and Naomi, since he was a tiny infant. His mother had been an unwed teenager, a wild and irresponsible girl who’d been spoiled since her parents were older when she was born. She’d brought much shame on the Chino family. Shortly after Johnny had been born, she’d dumped the baby into her parents’ lap and left for parts unknown. A few years later, they’d gotten word that she’d been killed in an alcohol-related car crash.
Now Johnny’s grandparents were both in their nineties, but were still in good enough health to do for themselves. Even so, Johnny didn’t stray far from the home place and Brady often wondered if they were the reason the man had quit taking on tracking jobs. Rumor had it that he’d quit because of some tragedy that had occurred out in California. But Brady wasn’t one to listen to rumors. Nor was he one to question a friend just to satisfy a curiosity.
When Brady parked the truck in front of the house, two dogs, a red hound and a black collie, barked and ran toward the vehicle. Trusting that the dogs would remember him from his last visit a couple of months ago, he stepped to the ground.
By the time the dogs had surrounded him, a door slammed and he looked up to see Johnny stepping onto the long, wooden porch spanning the front of the small stucco house.
He was a tall, strongly built man, his long black hair pulled into a ponytail. His right cheekbone carried a faint scar, but it was his dark eyes that bore the true marks of his past. He stood where he was and waited for Brady to join him in the shade.
Lifting his hand in greeting, Brady approached the porch. Their tails wagging, the dogs trailed close on his heels.
“They remember you,” Johnny said, nodding toward the dogs.
“Why wouldn’t they?” Brady joked. “I’m pretty unforgettable.”
A quirk of a smile moved a corner of Johnny’s mouth as he motioned to a tattered lawn chair. “Come sit.”
Brady climbed the steps and took a seat. Johnny slouched against the wall of the house and pulled a piece of willow from his pocket and opened his pocket knife.
“How are your grandparents, Johnny?” he asked politely.
“Old. Very old.”
Well, his friend always did have a way of summing up a situation with very few words, Brady thought wryly.
“You probably know why I’m here,” Brady said. In spite of this part of the reservation being remote, he knew that news of any sort traveled quickly from one family to the next. No doubt Johnny had already heard a woman had been found in the mountains.
“Maybe.”
Brady did his best to contain a sigh of impatience. This was one man he couldn’t hurry and if he tried, he’d probably blow the whole reason for the visit.
“The girl doesn’t know who she is,” Brady explained. “And I can’t figure out what happened. At least, I haven’t yet.”
“I’m no lawman.”
“No. But you’d make a good one,” Brady said honestly.
Johnny’s knife blade sliced through the piece of willow and a curl of wood fell to the porch floor.
“I don’t track anymore.”
Brady couldn’t let things die there. Lass and her happiness meant too much to him. “I was hoping you’d break out of retirement for me. Just this one time.”
“The dogs don’t track anymore, either.”
Brady looked around to see both dogs had flopped down in a hole they had scratched near the end of the porch. Their energy level appeared to match Johnny’s.
“Since when have you needed dogs to help you?” Brady asked.
“I don’t track anymore,” he repeated.
Rubbing his hands over his knees, Brady tried to hide his frustration. “Johnny, I thought we were friends. Good friends.”
Johnny’s rough features tightened, but he said nothing.
One minute, then two, then three finally ticked by in pregnant silence. If it had been anyone else besides Johnny, Brady would have set in with a long speech about how they’d stood up for each other in high school, how they’d always had each other’s backs on the football field, and how after Brady’s grandfather had died, they’d camped together on Bonito Lake for a whole week. Because at that time, Johnny had understood how much Brady had needed to be with a friend.
But Brady didn’t remind the other man of their close ties. He knew that Johnny hadn’t forgotten anything.
“This girl,” Johnny said finally, “she means a lot to you?”
Brady let out a long breath. Means a lot? Leave it to his old buddy’s simple question to make Brady really think about what Lass was becoming to him, how important her happiness had come to mean to him. “Yeah. She … well, I like her better than any girl I can ever remember.”
His friend didn’t make an immediate reply to that and while Brady waited, he watched a pair of guinea hens strut across the dusty yard. He tried to imagine Johnny living in Albuquerque or Santa Fe, but that was like picturing a mountain lion in a cage.
“Show me where you found her,” Johnny finally said. “And I’ll try to get the dogs interested.”
More grateful than he ever expected to feel, Brady swallowed a sigh of relief, then rose to his feet and walked over to Johnny.
At that moment, he could have said a lot of things to his old friend. Like how much he valued their friendship. How much he appreciated his help and how much he thanked him for always being around whenever he needed him. But Johnny already knew all of that. And the quiet Apache would be insulted to hear such platitudes from Brady. To Johnny a true bond needed no words to keep it strong.
Instead, Brady touched a hand to his shoulder. “Fine. But before we go, I’d like to say hello to your grandparents.”
Johnny opened the front door of the little stucco and motioned for Brady to precede him into the house. As Brady stepped into the cool, dimly lit living room, all he could think about was that he was now one giant step closer to finding Lass’s identity.
But what was that going to bring to her? To him? Was all of this effort to find her past, eventually going to tear her from his arms?
Brady couldn’t let himself think about those questions. Because the minute he did he would quit being the Chief Deputy of Lincoln County and simply become a man.
At the same time, some twenty miles away, in a small boutique in downtown Ruidoso, Lass ambled slowly through the aisles of lingerie while close behind her, Dallas made helpful suggestions.
“I love this pink lace,” Dallas said, pausing to examine a set of bra and panties draped from a padded satin hanger. “This would look great on you, Lass.”
A faint blush colored Lass’s face. “Those are very expensive. Especially when … well, no one is going to see what I’m wearing underneath,” she reasoned.
“Lass! Since when did a woman start worrying about that? We wear this stuff because it makes us feel sexy and pretty. And who’s worrying about the cost, anyway? I’m not.”
Following up on her invitation from yesterday, Dallas had insisted on bringing Lass to town today to shop for personal items. So far she’d purchased a sack full of inexpensive makeup, hair-styling tools, two pair of shoes, a handbag and wallet. Though what she expected to put inside the wallet, she didn’t know. Without money, ID, credit cards, or a checkbook, she had little use for one. But Dallas had insisted, saying eventually that Brady was going to solve the whole thing and then Lass would need a place to put her driver’s license and other important information.
“I can see that you’re not concerned about the expense. But I am,” Lass told her.
Dallas rolled her green eyes. “Oh, Lass, I rarely leave the stables to do anything. Much less shopping. And to have someone else to buy for makes this spree all that much better. Now please don’t spoil my fun. Come on and loosen up. Pick out your size in this pink and then we’ll find something in black. With your hair color you’ll sizzle!”
Sizzle? Lass didn’t need black lingerie to make her sizzle. Brady could easily get that job done.
Oh, Lord, why couldn’t she quit thinking about the man? Why couldn’t she get last night out of her mind? she wondered, as a flush of embarrassed heat warmed her cheeks. She’d never behaved so recklessly with a man. Never felt such a raw, unbridled urge to make love.
So how do you know that, Lass? Your mind is a blank blackboard. It can’t tell you whether you’ve had a boyfriend or lover or even a husband! How can it tell you that Brady made you feel things you’ve never felt before?
Because something deep down, something more than her mind was speaking to her, she mentally flung back at the little voice.
To Dallas she said with a measure of uncertainty, “I’m not really sure I want to sizzle, Dallas.”
Dallas laughed. “Honey, every woman from nine to ninety wants to feel a little spark now and then. And even though no one can tell us your exact age, I think we can safely assume you fit somewhere in that category.”
With a good-natured groan, Lass followed Dallas’s orders and searched through the pink lingerie until she found the correct size. But as the two women moved on down the aisle, past the cotton undergarments, Lass touched her friend’s arm.
“Dallas, wait a minute. Look at this stuff. Have you stopped to consider that I might be a cotton sort of girl?”
Dallas shot her a look of wry disbelief and Lass made a helpless gesture with her hands.
“See what I mean! I don’t remember anything about myself. It’s … scary. I could have been a mousy little librarian afraid to date even a nerd or—God forbid—maybe I was one of those women who flaunted themselves and had boyfriends scattered all over town!”
Dallas began to laugh, then, spotting the distress on Lass’s face, she gently curved a reassuring arm around her shoulders.
“I’m sorry, Lass, I know that none of this seems funny to you. But the idea of you being either one of those types of women is ridiculous. You have amnesia, not a personality disorder. Believe me, if Brady had thought you were wild and crazy, he wouldn’t have brought you home to the ranch. And trust me, he’s a good judge of character.”
After last night, there was no telling how he was judging her character, Lass thought. Stifling a groan, she said, “Well, I’m just very grateful that he decided to help me. That all of you are helping me.”
Dallas gave her shoulders another squeeze. “Look, Lass, I’m actually a selfish person. I love having your company. Brita’s so busy with her career as a doctor and Maura’s time is consumed with her own family. She has an eighteen-month-old son, Riley, and two weeks ago she gave birth to another son, Michael, so I don’t have a sister to pal with anymore and you’re the next best thing. The fact that you’re a horsewoman like me just makes it even better.” She shook her head with wry disbelief. “Isn’t it destiny,” she went on, “that you ended up on our horse farm?”
Destiny? Sometimes Lass felt as if she were in the twilight zone or some freakish dream that was too good to be true. She worried that at any moment she would wake and be jerked back to some dark place she didn’t want to be.
“Very,” Lass agreed. “And if your brother hadn’t found me that night—I might not even be alive today.”
Dropping her arm from her shoulders, Dallas urged her on down the aisle and away from the cotton underwear. “I can tell my brother likes you,” she declared. “A lot.”
Lass glanced around the store, as though she suspected anyone hearing such a comment would burst out laughing. From what Kate had told her, Brady’s acquaintances with women ranged all over the county and beyond. He’d never lacked female attention. In fact, Kate said that more often than not, Brady had more trouble getting rid of a girlfriend than acquiring one. And after that kiss he’d given Lass last night, she could certainly understand why. The man’s charm was so strong it deserved a warning label.
Picking up a black camisole, she studied the lace edging that would frame her bosom in a very provocative way. “I understand that Brady likes a lot of women,” Lass murmured as she fingered the whisper light silk.
Dallas grimaced with disapproval. “Yes. But not like this. Not like you.”
Lass jerked her gaze to the other woman’s face. “Why do you say that?”
“Because he’s never brought any woman home to the ranch before. And he darn sure wouldn’t let one near Grandma. Not unless he considered her to be really special.”
Could Dallas be right? Lass wondered. Did he consider her special? As soon as the question crossed her mind, she berated herself for even thinking it. She couldn’t allow herself to get all dreamy-eyed about Brady. Any hour, any day, someone could show up to claim her. And then what would happen? Where would she be? What sort of life would that someone lead her back to? No, getting involved with Brady would be the same as asking for a heart ache.
Later that evening, more than thirty miles away at the sheriff’s department in Carrizozo, Brady was sitting at his desk, searching through page after page of data on the computer screen, when a cup of steaming hot coffee appeared a few inches from his right hand.
Glancing up, he saw Hank’s beaming face.
“What’s this for?” Brady asked the junior deputy.
“I just made a new pot and you looked like you needed it.”
“Thanks. I do need it. It’s been a hell of a day and it’s not over yet.”
“You’re telling me. Ever since I came back from lunch, the darn phone has been ringing off the hook.” Hank motioned toward the monitor. “Find anything on there that fits Lass?”
“This is the first chance I’ve had to look today. And so far I’m not finding any missing persons alerts that even come close to Lass’s description.” He reached for the foam cup and took a cautious sip while Hank pulled up a folding metal chair and flopped into it.
This afternoon, while Brady had driven Johnny to the mountains, the department had been flooded with an array of calls. For the past several hours, Hank had been out doing his part to deal with the problems. Brady glanced at his watch. It was getting late, but before he left for the ranch, he needed to talk over Johnny’s findings with Ethan. But for the past hour Ethan had been tied up with meetings and phone calls. Today had been a busy day for all of them and Brady was feeling more than tired. He was frustrated and troubled and more than a little anxious to see Lass again.
“I’m glad you showed up before I head home,” he told Hank. “I need your reports from this morning. Have you had a chance to type them up?”
Hank looked at him with a bemused expression. “Reports? I didn’t go out on any calls this morning.”
Brady slowly lifted his gray hat from his hand and stabbed his fingers through his flattened hair. “Hank, I sent you out to question the businesses on Sudderth and Mechem Drives. You were supposed to ask if anyone working in those businesses recalled seeing Lass in the days before we found her. Remember?”
“Well, sure I remember what I was doing this morning. I just wasn’t considering that the same as going on a call. You sent me on that job. It wasn’t the same as somebody calling in and wanting help. Don’t you see?”
Brady sighed. “Yeah. I see. So where are your notes? I understand that you’ve been tied up most of the day, so if you’ve not had a chance to type them up, we’ll worry about that later. Just give me what you have and I’ll try to decipher your handwriting.”
Hank’s expression turned sheepish. “I ain’t got no notes. Nobody knew nothin’. So there wasn’t any use in taking down notes.”
Screwing his hat back onto his head, Brady narrowed his eyes on the hapless deputy. Hank was usually a dedicated deputy. And ever since he’d been hired on at the department, he’d been a good friend to Brady. But at this moment he wanted to wring the man’s neck.
