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Sam was so big and strong. Sitting so close, he made her feel almost delicate. Yet, he hadn’t tried to intimidate her physically like other men had. He’d made her feel safe and protected. That’s what had scared her so much when she’d believed he’d been sent by Vaughn, that he could have taken her in so easily. When she’d finally accepted that not only wasn’t he involved with Vaughn, but that he was her husband and the father of the baby she carried, she’d felt relieved and somewhat vindicated.
Now she felt curious. Not only about him, personally, but about her life with him. She moved restlessly. “Sam, for all intents and purposes, we’ve just met. I know nothing about you beyond these last few hours.”
He released her hand and sat back, as if reading her need for a little space. “I’m not sure I know where to start.”
Start with why you married me. The thought came full-blown to her mind, but she didn’t voice it. She’d asked Vaughn that once, and he’d answered with the required pretty words. But it hadn’t taken her long to realize pretty words meant nothing. Or that she wouldn’t have wanted a man like Vaughn to love her, even if they had.
Sam seemed like a good, honest man. But she wanted to know him a lot better before she asked him a question whose answer she’d have to analyze. So, she decided to start with something simple.
“I know your name is Sam Delaney. How old are you?”
“I’ll be thirty-five April third. That’s about three months from now.”
It seemed impossible so much time had passed. Like some modern Rip van Winkle, she’d gone to sleep and woken up over three years later. But old Rip hadn’t gotten married and pregnant during his nap! Thinking about the time that had passed, another thought occurred. “I missed my thirtieth birthday,” she said. There were probably women who’d rejoice at such a fact, but she only felt strange to have missed such an important milestone.
“When is your birthday?” Sam asked. “We’ve been using October seventeenth, the day of the accident.”
“December thirty-first.”
“Well, we didn’t know it was your birthday, but we did celebrate.”
She laughed. “Us and the rest of the world. It is New Year’s Eve.”
His blue eyes sparkled. “I bet when you were a kid you thought the celebration was all for you.”
“You win.”
But that hadn’t lasted long, she thought. People had been quick to tell her the celebration had nothing to do with her. Just like Vaughn had been quick to tell her their success had nothing to do with her. It was his work, his brains that made their advertising company a huge success. The campaigns she’d designed, he’d told her, would never have gotten off the ground if it hadn’t been for him.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Sam interrupted her dismal thoughts.
Adrienne rubbed her eyes. Suddenly, she felt very tired and emotional. “What could be wrong? I’ve forgotten three years of my life. I’m pregnant with a child I don’t remember conceiving with a man I don’t remember marrying.”
Seeing the stricken look on his face, she regretted snapping at him. “Look, I’m sorry. My head is aching again. Would you mind if we postponed this question-and-answer session for a while?”
For a moment she thought he was going to refuse. There was a stubborn look on his face that told her he wanted to. Instead, he got up and moved the chair he’d been sitting on back next to the wall.
Grateful for his compliance, she felt a need to reassure him. “I just need a little rest, Sam. It’s been a big day.”
Sam managed a smile. “That’s putting it mildly. Get some sleep. I’ll be down the hall if you need me.”
“You don’t have to stay.”
He looked a little hurt. “Yes, I do.”
Adrienne was glad. She liked the security she felt knowing he would be near. Even though she knew Vaughn lived a couple thousand miles away, in blessed ignorance, she couldn’t quite shake the fear that he’d come running should he ever learn of her circumstances. Then, she suspected, there would be no more safety. No matter how big and strong Sam was.
SAM LEFT THE ROOM reluctantly. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what. He walked down the hall toward the waiting room, though he already hated the sight of those rose walls and cranberry couches.
He understood that Amy had been through a lot. She probably just needed some time to assimilate what she’d learned so far. He certainly did.
But he also suspected there was something she hadn’t told him. Something about her ex-husband. Why else would she be worried about whether he had a hold on her and the baby?
Once in the waiting room, Sam found it difficult to keep still. He sat. He stood. He paced, then sat again. Had he made a mistake letting her distance him like this? What else could he have done?
He picked up a magazine and leafed through the pages, but never saw one. His mind never left the woman lying in the hospital room down the hall. He couldn’t force her to talk to him. He knew that. So he stayed where he was, knowing also that if he pushed, she’d run. She’d already done it once.
Twice, if what he suspected about her arrival in California had any validity.
So, he’d wait. Because next time he might not find her so easily. Frustrated by his own logic, he threw the magazine across the room.
Casey strode in as the magazine settled itself on the floor next to the couch. “Hey, big brother, what are you doing here?”
“Amy needed some rest.”
“Told her you were her husband and she kicked you out, huh?”
Sam glared at him. “That’s not funny.”
Casey sat down beside him and slapped a hand on his back. “It ain’t gonna happen, either. So quit worrying. You’re much more interesting than that stiff she left in Boston.”
That got his attention. “Her ex-husband’s dead?”
Casey laughed. “Not that kind of stiff. You’ve been hanging around cops too much.”
“How did you find him so fast?” He’d just found out the Vaughn she’d kept mentioning was related to her himself.
Acting insulted, Casey moved to the chair across from him. “Will you ever stop underestimating your little brother? I put the names Vaughn and Winston together, called a friend who’s good at tracing people. Winston’s in advertising. Has a big company in Boston called Advon Inc. He and Adrienne started it five years ago. Right after they got married.”
“So the ID was fake,” Sam said, only surprised that Amy hadn’t made that clear when he’d talked about trying to find her next of kin.
“Yep,” Casey said. “A good fake, too. She must have paid a bundle for it.”
Restless, Sam picked up a magazine, then put it back down. “I can’t believe Amy has her own advertising company. Why would she leave it to run to California?”
Casey sat forward. “Had. She signed it over to him right before she left town.”
“What?” That made less sense than her running away from it. “Why?”
Casey shrugged. “Maybe that’s the price she had to pay to get rid of him.”
Remembering his own comment about survival skills earlier, Sam felt a shiver of fear. “She must have wanted to do that pretty badly to give up a company she founded.” That fact should have made him happy. After all, it was easier to deal with an ex the woman you loved hated. You never had to see him. But the desperation of it made him uneasy. “What else did you find out?”
“Not much. Actually, what I did find was pretty weird. Nobody seemed to know she’d been missing.”
“A woman disappears for three years and nobody notices?” This was getting stranger by the moment.
“She has no family. Nobody filled out a missing-person’s report. All she had was Winston, who evidently didn’t care if she disappeared. The private detective suggested that Amy might have wanted to be lost, so he’s being very discreet. We don’t want to alert the wrong person to her presence.”
Sam’s fear took form. How would they know who the wrong person was? Of course, it was probably her ex. If so, what had he done to make her turn over her half of their company and run all the way to California?
His mind jumped to the obvious: abuse. “Come on.” He grabbed Casey’s arm and dragged him out of the room.
“Where are we going?”
“To talk to Amy.”
Casey pulled away. “And ask her what?”
So many questions filled Sam’s mind, he couldn’t begin to list them. Instead, he focused on his brother’s doubt-filled expression. “Are you saying we shouldn’t ask her what made her come out here three years ago?” It had to be the ex. He must have hurt her, threatened her. Something had driven her away. How could Sam protect her if he didn’t know what that was?
“I’m saying you can’t go charging in there and demand answers.”
Sam gave a short laugh. “That’s pretty good coming from the original bull in a china shop.”
Casey smiled wryly. “You spent a lot of time trying to teach me patience. Maybe the lessons finally got through my thick head.”
Sam paced up the hall a few feet, then back. “It’s easy for you to be patient. She’s not your wife.”
“She’s not yours, either.”
His brother’s tone was so mild, Sam almost missed the import of what he’d said. Fire filled him. He grabbed Casey’s shoulders and held him against the wall. “Don’t ever say that again.”
Casey didn’t fight him off. “Use your head, Sam. You’re not dealing with Amy anymore. You said yourself she doesn’t remember you. It’s Adrienne Winston you’re going to be questioning. Not the woman you’ve been married to the past two years.”
Sam slowly released his brother. Frustration and anger had driven him, but he had no desire to hurt a man who spoke only the truth. “I’m sorry.”
Casey straightened his jacket. “Forget it.”
“So what do we do now?” He really had no idea. He’d lived with Amy for the last three years. Even before they’d fallen in love, she’d stayed in the home he and Casey had shared. To him, she was one person. Sweet, loving, talented, hardworking, intelligent Amy. To think of her as another person, one who didn’t know him, who didn’t love him, seemed impossible.
“I think we should do nothing,” Casey said.
It was the last answer he’d expected. “Nothing?” No questions? No answers? “How can I keep her safe if I don’t know what I’m up against?”
“She is safe.” Before Sam could protest, Casey rushed on. “I’m beginning to think you’re the one with amnesia. This isn’t three years ago, Sam. She didn’t just fall into the street in front of your truck. She tripped vacuuming, for God’s sake!”
Casey’s voice had risen so loud, a passing nurse shushed him.
Sam laughed. “So much for patience.”
Casey’s eyebrows lowered. “You’re a jackass.”
Amy would have said “headstrong and stubborn,” Sam thought. And as usual she would have been right. He had to get a grip. He was in love with, and expecting a child with, a woman who no longer knew him from Adam. That was enough of a problem to solve, without having to worry about what happened in the past.
“All right, you win.”
Casey looked at him in surprise. “I do? What do I win?”
Sam shook his head at his brother’s clowning. Casey never could hold a grudge. “My patience.”
“Ah.” He nodded sagely. “Well, that was more for you than for me.”
“Amy’s here. She’s safe.” For now, he couldn’t help thinking. “She and the baby are my top priorities.” He started to move down the hall, then turned back. “But that patience won’t last forever. Tell that P.I. friend of yours to get to work. I want to know every move Vaughn Winston makes.”
“Sam…”
Sam saw the uneasy look on his brother’s face. “He hurt her, Casey. I don’t know when or why or how. But he hurt her. If he comes anywhere near her again, I’ll make him pay.”
Casey covered the space between them in three strides, grabbed his arm. “Sam, you have to let me handle this. You’re not trained…”
Sam shook him off. “She’s mine, Casey. Divorced or not. Married or not. She’s mine. And I am going to make sure no one hurts her again.”
Chapter Four
In her hospital room the next morning, Adrienne put on the clothes Sam had brought for her. If she hadn’t already been ambivalent about going home with him, the clothes would certainly have given her some doubts. The ankle-length gauze skirt of watercolor pastels and the long pink cotton sweater definitely belonged to Amy.
She looked in the mirror and studied the woman she’d become. Her hair, which she normally kept chin length, fell below her shoulders. The curl she’d tried to tame had obviously been allowed to take its natural course. Without the mousse she usually applied, the golden-blond color appeared lighter and shinier somehow.
Since Sam hadn’t brought any, Adrienne assumed she no longer wore makeup either. She didn’t really need it. Her lashes were dark enough. She could have used some blusher, since her face was still pale. Lipstick would have been nice. But overall, still okay.
The parts were different, but taken as a whole she looked soft and womanly. It didn’t exactly displease her, but it wasn’t at all the effect she usually tried for.
Her colleagues would have interpreted soft and womanly as weak and less than bright. She would never have worn anything so obviously feminine. The clothes she’d chosen had been boldly colored and of modern design. Suits that emphasized her strength and creativity. Dresses that showed her to be innovative and intelligent. They were more than power suits. They were armor.
This…froth…would protect her from nothing.
Of course, the argument could be made that she didn’t need to be protected. Not from business associates. Not from rival firms. And not from Vaughn.
She had a new life now as Amy Delaney. She was wife of Sam Delaney, soon-to-be-mother of this child she carried, and…what else?
Who was Amy Delaney? Had her loss of memory really changed her as much as her choice of clothing indicated?
In the end, it was that question that decided her. She would go home with Sam. She would learn about Amy Delaney. But she would do it as Adrienne. She didn’t want to hurt him, but Sam would just have to understand that she wasn’t the woman he’d been living with the past three years. She had to go with what was familiar to her.
Adrienne, the survivor.
SAM PACED the hallway outside Amy’s room. He refused to set foot in that waiting room again. This had been the worst two days of his life.
But I’ll get through it, he thought, taking a deep breath to ease the panic that kept threatening to overtake his usually rational mind. Once he had her home and safe, Amy would remember what they’d had together and everything would get back to normal.
“Sam?”
Sam turned. “Amy. You look beautiful.”
“Adrienne.”
“Excuse me?” She looked so familiar, the lack of a responding smile confused him.
