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“His pressure’s holding well,” the technician told Jocelyn. “Tell me, does he have any chronic conditions?”
“No,” Jocelyn answered. “He jogs daily, so he’s in good physical shape.”
“Good,” the man grunted as he started to rip open Lucas’s white shirt.
Jocelyn bit back the urge to demand to know what he was doing. She didn’t want to distract the man and thus endanger Lucas.
As she watched, he began to tape flat, disk-shaped things with wires attached to them to Lucas’s chest.
“This is just a precaution,” the technician said, rewarding Jocelyn’s patience with information. “The hospital is getting the readout now and they’ll be able to respond the minute we get him there.”
“How much longer?” Jocelyn shivered at the sight of Lucas’s white face. The very faint shadow of his emerging beard showed up starkly against the abnormal pallor of his cheeks, giving him a slightly raffish look. The look was reinforced by the nasty bruise beginning to emerge on the left side of his face.
“We’ll be there soon.” The man braced himself against the side of the ambulance as the driver swung around a curve.
Five minutes later they pulled up in front of the emergency room door of the hospital, and a team of white-coated personnel erupted through the doors and swarmed into the ambulance. To her relief, the people seemed to know exactly what they were doing. Within seconds they had Lucas out of the ambulance and were rushing him through the double doors.
“Come on, Mrs. Forester,” the technician said. “I’ll show you where you can wait.”
“Thank—” Her voice broke under the force of the emotions she was trying to hold in check.
“Try not to think about it.” The man took her arm and steered her into the emergency waiting room.
Not thinking about Lucas was like trying not to breathe. It only worked until your instincts took over, and then you automatically started again.
“You can wait in here, Mrs. Forester.” The man showed her into a small waiting room furnished with a black vinyl couch and an orange plastic chair. “You sit down, and I’ll go tell the doctor where you are, all right?”
Jocelyn nodded jerkily and sank onto the couch. She clenched her hands into fists and stared down at them, shocked when she saw a tear fall and bounce off her white knuckles. Impatiently she wiped her cheeks with her coat sleeve and then started to pick up her purse to get a tissue. Her purse wasn’t there. Vaguely she glanced around the room, wondering where it was and then dismissed its whereabouts as unimportant. There was nothing in her purse that couldn’t be replaced, whereas Lucas…
Jocelyn swallowed the raw taste of fear.
“Mrs. Forester, I’m so glad you’re here.” A tall, elderly man bustled into the room. “I’m Dr. Edwards, the staff neurosurgeon, and I’ve just seen your husband. We’re doing an MRI at the moment, and as soon as that is done I want to go in.”
“In?” Jocelyn repeated blankly.
“Operate,” the man said succinctly. “There’s inter-cranial bleeding going on and it has to be stopped.
“It’s extremely fortunate you were with him or we would have lost precious time trying to locate the next of kin.”
Jocelyn shuddered. She wasn’t sure whether his half brother or his stepmother would be considered his next of kin, but one thing she did know, neither one of them would have lifted a finger to help him. They valued Lucas’s possessions, not Lucas himself. In fact, she thought, as she remembered Bill’s hard eyes glaring at her, she wouldn’t put it past Bill to stall giving his consent in the hope that Lucas might suffer permanent brain damage. Her stomach lurched. Or worse.
She didn’t dare let the doctor find out she wasn’t Lucas’s wife. Not until after he was out of danger. Then she’d confess.
Taking a deep breath, Jocelyn said, “I’ll sign whatever is necessary to ensure…my husband’s recovery.” The word husband rang mockingly in her ears. For so long she’d dreamed of Lucas coming to love her, and now that there was no chance of that ever happening, she was publicly claiming him as her husband.
Her breath caught on a sob at the irony of it.
“I know it’s hard, Mrs. Forester, but try not to worry. The MRI was looking good when I left. With just the smallest amount of luck, he’ll sail through the operation and by christmas, all he’ll have to remember this by is a scar, which any good plastic surgeon can take care of.
“Now, you try and relax, and I’ll send the secretary in with the release forms for you to sign. I’m going to go prep him for surgery.”
Jocelyn nodded, not trusting herself to speak without breaking down in tears.
Jocelyn watched the doctor leave and then stared down at her tightly clenched hands and tried to think, to plan her next step. She couldn’t. Her thoughts kept getting sucked down into the maelstrom of emotions swirling through her. Finally she just gave up and stared blankly at the beige wall. All she could do was to endure and wait for the operation to be over.
Despite the kindness of the workers in the emergency room, who kept bringing her cups of coffee and offering hearty words of encouragement that rang false to Jocelyn’s ears, the wait seemed interminable.
Finally, when Jocelyn had about reached the end of her tether, the doctor strode through the doorway. His wide grin told her everything she wanted to know.
Relief washed over her in waves. A high-pitched buzzing filled her ears. Jocelyn shook her head to try to clear the sound, and the movement snapped her link with consciousness. A dark gray fog closed over her, carrying her into a blissful silence.
She came to a few minutes later to find herself lying on the sofa she had been sitting on, a worried-looking doctor bending over her. For a fraction of a second she was confused, and then she remembered.
“He’s okay?” she demanded.
“completely out of danger. I stopped the bleeding, and as far as I can tell there was no damage.”
“As far as you can tell?” Jocelyn repeated. “What does that mean?”
“Exactly what it says. I saw nothing to indicate that he will have any lasting effects of his accident. I’ve spoken to the social worker here at the hospital. She’s checked you into one of the rooms we keep available for the relatives of patients in intensive care. And the policeman brought your suitcases from your wrecked car and your purse, which you apparently left behind. They’ve been put in the room.”
“Thank you, when can I see my…husband?” the word sounded odd on her lips. Odd and yet strangely right.
“He’s in recovery at the moment. He should be out in an hour if he continues to make such good progress. Why don’t you go to your room and lie down. I promise I’ll get you the minute we move him down to the ward. Okay?”
“Okay,” Jocelyn said, willing to agree to anything which would allow her to see her beloved Lucas.
Chapter Two
“Doctor Edwards asked that you see him before you visited your husband this morning,” the nurse told Jocelyn when she reached the nurses’ station of the surgical ward.
Jocelyn felt her skin blanch with sudden fear. What had happened? Even though Lucas hadn’t yet regained consciousness, the nurses had been very pleased with his vital signs when she’d left him late last night.
Lucas didn’t…” Jocelyn couldn’t bring herself to complete the sentence.
“No, of course not,” the nurse hurriedly reassured her. He’s coming along nicely. Amazingly well, in fact, considering what he’s been through. It’s just that…
Oh, good, there’s Dr. Edwards now.” The nurse broke off in evident relief as she caught sight of the doctor hurrying down the hall toward them.
Jocelyn turned, waiting nervously for the doctor to reach her. If Lucas hadn’t suffered a relapse, the only reason she could think of that the doctor would insist on seeing her would be if the hospital had somehow found out that Lucas and she weren’t married. That she had lied to them.
Which would explain the doctor’s impatience to see her. He was probably worried about the hospital’s liability for having operated on Lucas without proper authorization.
Jocelyn braced her thin shoulders and prepared to face the doctor’s wrath. But even knowing that what she’d done was technically wrong, she’d do it again in a heartbeat. Lucas had gotten the help he’d needed when he’d needed it. Not when some bureaucrat had decided it was legally safe to treat him.
“Mrs. Forester.” Dr. Edwards’s greeting caught her off guard. If he’d found out that she wasn’t Lucas’s wife, why was he still calling her that? And if he hadn’t found out, then why was it so urgent he speak to her? Unless the nurse had lied about Lucas being okay? Sudden panic gripped her, and she took an involuntary step toward the doctor.
“Lucas is fine.” The doctor had no trouble reading her expressive face. “Physically, I’m very impressed with how well he’s responding.”
“But?” Jocelyn asked, sensing his constraint.
It has been my experience that occasionally in situations like this—”
“Cut to the chase,” Jocelyn said, interrupting him. “My nerves won’t last through the buildup.”
“Don’t worry. It’s nothing bad. Just a temporary problem. Mr. Forester is suffering a spot of amnesia.”
“Amnesia?” Jocelyn stared blankly at the doctor.
“It isn’t all that uncommon in head injuries,” he assured her. “We discovered it this morning when we cut back on the pain medication enough to let him regain consciousness. Your husband should remember everything within a week. A couple of weeks at the outside.”
“Amnesia,” Jocelyn repeated. As in, he doesn’t remember who I am?” Or the fact that I’m not really his wife? A complicated mixture of emotions swirled through her as the implications of the situation began to register.
“Not at the moment,” he said.
“How do I handle this?” she finally asked.
“The most important thing you can do is to keep calm and not to try to force his memory. He should remember a little more each day until it all comes back to him. Just answer any questions he asks and, above all, keep stress to a minimum.”
“I see,” Jocelyn said slowly, wondering what to do now. confessing who she really was was out of the question in light of this latest development. Not if Lucas was to have the peace he needed to get better. At the first hint of any weakness on Lucas’s part, Bill would be all over him; and Bill was stress personified.
Besides, she didn’t really want to confess, she realized. Soon she would be gone from Lucas’s life entirely. Being able to pretend to be his wife for a few days was a gift of incredible proportions from an unexpectedly benevolent fate. She’d be able to cherish the memory of those precious days for the rest of her life.
“When can he leave the hospital?” she asked.
“Barring anything unforeseen, he can be discharged day after tomorrow.”
“So soon!”
“He’ll recover much quicker in a familiar environment. Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.” Dr. Edwards gave her an encouraging smile and hurried off down the hall.
I sure hope he’s a better doctor than he is a fortune teller, Jocelyn thought. Because “fine” was the one thing she wasn’t going to be. Once Lucas regained his memory, she’d lose the man she loved. She didn’t think she’d ever be fine again. Which was all the more reason to make the most of the moment, she told herself.
Taking a deep breath, she hurried down the hall to Lucas’s room. Pushing open the door, she walked inside.
Lucas lay in a high, narrow bed. His eyes were closed, and his skin had a grayish cast, which was emphasized by the large, white bandage, which covered the left side of his forehead. Jocelyn silently approached the bed, wincing when she saw the lurid purple-and-red bruise that started under his bandage and ran down his cheek almost to his jaw. He hadn’t shaved since the accident, and the three days’ growth of beard gave him a vaguely pirate-like look that sent an unexpected kick of excitement through her. Lucas looked like an ancient warrior. One who’d been on the losing side.
Her heart twisted. He looked so vulnerable. Something that was totally foreign to his normal vibrant personality. Lucas always seemed so competent, so absolutely in charge of both himself and the situation he found himself in; it was a shock to realize that he needed protecting. But she also found it oddly exhilarating. Somehow, his present vulnerability put them on an equal footing. He needed her. For the first time in their relationship she wasn’t on the periphery of his life. She was smack in the middle of it.
His eyelids slowly lifted as if he’d sensed someone was in the room with him, and she found herself staring into his eyes. They seemed dimmer than usual. The brilliant sparkle that usually lit them had been dulled, which was hardly surprising given what had happened, she told herself.
Uncertainly she watched him, waiting for a clue as to how to proceed.
Lucas squinted, trying to see the woman standing beside his bed through the haze of pain that engulfed him. Her large eyes were pale blue with an intriguing violet tinge, he thought distractedly. But her eyes didn’t look hopeful. They were filled with apprehension. Because of him? he wondered as he studied the creamy texture of her complexion. Her delicately molded nose had a light dusting of pale freckles that intrigued him. Did she have freckles anywhere else? he wondered. His eyes instinctively dropped to her body and a surge of heat welled up through him, which increased the pounding in his head to nauseating levels.
Hastily, he forced his gaze upward away from the temptation of her body to discover her mouth. She had gorgeous lips, he decided after a moment’s deliberation. They were soft and pink and full and promised unimaginable delights to anyone lucky enough to kiss them.
Mesmerized, he watched as she reached up and brushed back a strand of her gleaming hair. It was the exact color of Italian chestnuts. A deep rich brown with just the slightest hint of red in the mix.
Who was she? he wondered. Certainly not a nurse. Not dressed in that severely cut, dark-blue business suit. He wished he could see her legs over the edge of the bed. If they were as intriguing as her face was…
A sudden flash of memory of her reaching up to get something on a shelf over her head flashed through his mind. She was wearing beige slacks that lovingly molded her trim hips. The instinctive burst of desire that surged through him made the pain in his head escalate to appalling proportions. He waited a moment for the pain to ebb before he followed his memory flash to its logical conclusion. He knew this woman. He knew her from before the accident. Knew her and desired her. Hell, he thought with black humor, if he desired her much more he’d pass out from the pain it caused him.
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. This morning when he’d tried to ask the doctor some questions, the only information that the man had actually given him had been that Lucas had a wife named Jocelyn, and she had been in the hospital since the accident, although she wasn’t there at the moment. could this woman be his wife? He tried to slow his breathing to counter his sudden excitement at the tantalizing thought. His eyes dropped to her breasts. Did he know her intimately? Frustration engulfed him at his inability to remember.
Sending up a prayer that this intriguing-looking woman really belonged to him, he gave her a crooked grin and said, “Mrs. Forester, I presume?”
To his dismay her lovely blue eyes suddenly filled with tears.
“Oh, Lucas, I was so worried that…” Her musical voice broke, drowned in the depth of her relief. Lucas sounded so normal. So lucid. So…so Lucas.
“That I’d forgotten you?” he said, drawing his own conclusions. come closer. I don’t bite. In fact,” he added when she didn’t move, even thinking lascivious thoughts at the moment makes my head pound, quite literally.”
He frowned as a deep flush burned beneath her pale skin.
“You are my wife, aren’t you?” he asked uncertainly, confused at her odd reaction. Didn’t wives want their husbands to desire them? Or was it that this particular wife didn’t want him to desire her? Or was her seemingly embarrassed reaction caused by something else entirely? He winced as his head began to pound with his conjectures.
Jocelyn took a deep breath and said, Yes, I’m your wife.”
Her words seemed to bounce off the room’s bare walls, gaining strength as they ricocheted. Jocelyn listened to them, both elated and scared by what she had done. One of the many foster mothers she’d had when she was a child had once told her that, if she told a lie, God would strike her dead on the spot.
All her life she’d felt a nervous dread whenever she told a fib, even though she knew perfectly well that God had better things to do than to run around zapping people. But this certainly proved her foster mother had been wrong once and for all, Jocelyn thought ruefully. Because if instantaneous retribution hadn’t been demanded for a lie of this magnitude, she was safe forever.
“I knew you were familiar,” Lucas said, giving up trying to analyze the expressions flitting across her expressive face. She was probably just upset, which was hardly surprising. His accident hadn’t done anything for his mental health, either.
Instinctively he reached out to her as his head began to pound again.
Jocelyn grasped his hand. Unable to resist the temptation, she stroked her fingertips across the back of his hand, savoring the texture of his warm skin. A spurt of excitement shafted through her as he began to lightly rub his thumb over the palm of her hand in response to her caress. Her breathing shortened as a shivery sensation raced over her nerve endings.
Jocelyn ran the tip of her tongue over her suddenly dry lips.
Lucas watched the movement of her tongue from beneath his lowered eyelids, wanting to trace its path with his own tongue. And then he wanted to…
“Just a minute while I get a chair to sit in.” Jocelyn’s voice came out in a breathless squeak. Tugging her hand free, she hurried across the room to get the black vinyl armchair against the other wall.
Lucas watched as she dragged it across the floor, his sense of unease increasing. Did she really want the chair or did she just want to break off the physical contact with him? He clenched his teeth together in frustration at his inability to remember and immediately paid a price when his head started to pound again. Deliberately he tried to relax. This wasn’t the time to go paranoid, he tried to tell himself. He had enough on his plate trying to deal with the aftereffects of his accident. He didn’t need to be imagining problems where there might not be any.
Unless…Another more ominous possibility occurred to him and his eyes shot open. could she know something about his operation that he didn’t? Could the doctor have told her he wasn’t ever going to remember again? That his life to date was now dead to him? Fear shafted through him, sending a sheen of sweat over his skin.
“Lucas, what’s wrong?” Jocelyn caught his sudden spurt of emotion and feared that he might have remembered everything.
“What did that doctor tell you?” he demanded.
“Tell me?” she repeated, torn between relief that he hadn’t regained his memory yet and guilt at being so selfish as to be glad.
“About my operation?”
“That you were very lucky. That there would be no permanent damage and that memory loss wasn’t unusual after this kind of operation and that all we had to do was wait for it to come back.”
