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Ben’s thoughts shifted and he turned to look at the woman. How much was she going to pay? Would her body be part of the bargain? Maybe it was because of her momentary vulnerability, but she didn’t look like the flashy, high-dollar call girls Weston had sent to lure him back when Ben had been in his twenties.
Now as he calmed, Ben’s brows drew together. She had looked right at him and said she had to get to Ben Falcon.
He frowned and moved back to the bed. She was determined to get to him, yet she hadn’t recognized him. His father would have coached her, briefed her and given her pictures.
“Dammit,” Ben said and leaned over her, sliding his hand over her head. He felt the lump on her head beneath her hair and realized he’d been so busy looking for broken bones and tending her cuts, he hadn’t felt for bumps on her head easily hidden by her riotous red hair. He glanced at the snow again and crossed the room to the phone to punch 911.
In minutes he had made arrangements for the medical chopper from Albuquerque to fly to his ranch and pick up the woman and get her to Emergency. Next he called his physician friend, Kyle Whittaker, to ask him if he would meet them at the hospital.
Dressed in a black sweater and jeans, Ben gathered up his keys, pushed his wallet into his hip pocket while he punched a number and told Zeb Diez, his foreman, what had happened and where he was going. “I’ll light up the grounds where the chopper lands. You turn the lights off when we’re gone.”
“Sure, boss.” Zeb’s deep voice sounded alert. “We’re going to have to get feed to the animals in this storm.”
“You know where the keys are to the Jeep if you need it. And check with Derek to see if they need any supplies,” Ben said, staring at the gray night sky and thinking about the boys’ ranch. In weather like this they wouldn’t be able to get supplies in and would rely on Ben or his men.
“I’ll check on them,” Zeb answered.
“I’ll call you as soon as I know when I’ll be back,” Ben promised, replacing the receiver and glancing at his watch. He had agreed to be ready and waiting for the chopper.
He picked up her jacket, searching the pockets, looking at the label. Next he picked up the slacks and repeated the process, pulling out a torn, folded slip of paper. It was a page from a memo pad with the name Jennifer printed in blue at the top. He stuffed the paper into his own pocket and walked over to the bed.
“C’mon, Jennifer or whoever you are—we’re going for a ride,” he said in a tight, angry voice. Yet he worked slowly and with care as he eased her slacks back on her, lifting her slim thighs as he slid the dark wool up over them, trying to avoid letting his gaze roam to the pink lace. He slid his hands beneath her soft, round bottom, his breath catching while his manhood swelled and hardened. He tugged the slacks up to her waist, buttoning them and feeling his body respond as intensely as if he had been undressing her. When he pushed back the covers, she groaned and opened her eyes, staring at him and frowning. She rubbed her head.
“Where am I?”
“I’m Ben Falcon,” he said carefully, watching her closely.
She frowned and rubbed her head. “Ben,” she said hesitantly, “I know you, don’t I?”
“I saw your car go off the road and found you and brought you here.” Her green eyes had a crystal clearness that at the moment held a troubled vulnerability. “I’m Ben,” he continued, “and you’re—?”
She rubbed her forehead again. “I’m—” She paused and looked up at him and shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said in a whisper. “I can’t think. My head hurts....”
“I found a slip of paper in your pocket that had the name Jennifer written on it, so I guess we’ll go with that.”
“Jennifer,” she said quietly, while shaking her head and frowning. “I don’t know.”
“You have a bump on your head. I’ve called an Albuquerque hospital. They’re flying a chopper here, and I told them we’d be ready and waiting. Relax and don’t worry. You’ll be in good hands. I have an orthopedic friend who’ll meet us in Emergency.”
“I don’t remember. I remember snow. So much snow. My friend Mary.” She paused and looked up. “Mary is my friend.”
“Mary who?”
She thought and shook her head. “Do you have my purse?”
He sat down on the bed, still feeling the deep-running current of anger, yet right now she looked frightened and in need of comfort and a friend. He took her hand in his. “You were traveling in a snowstorm and went off the mountain, wrecking your car. The car burned, and I didn’t see a purse when I found you. I’ll go back tomorrow and look to see what I can find.”
“I’m lots of trouble for you.”
“No, you’re not,” he said, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. She looked down at his dark-skinned fingers holding her slender, pale ones.
“I don’t remember anything,” she said softly, frowning at him while worry clouded her eyes. “Thank you for helping me.”
“You’ll be all right,” he said gruffly. “Here’s your coat. Probably when shock from the wreck wears off, you’ll remember everything.”
She brightened and touched his cheek. Her fingers were cool and light on his skin. Startled, he felt an uncustomary awareness from such a slight, casual touch. “You’re hurt,” she said quietly. “Is that from trying to help me?” she asked, running her finger alongside the cut on his temple.
“It’s only a scratch.”
“You must have been in danger to get bruised and scratched like that. Thank you for taking me in and caring for me. You’re patient and kind,” she remarked, and smiled at him, revealing even white teeth and a dimple in her left cheek.
Startled, Ben was aware that never before had a woman told him that he was patient or kind. There was a trusting look in her eyes that tore at him because he couldn’t forget why she was in his bedroom. When her memory returned, she would not call him kind and he wouldn’t tolerate her in his house.
“I’ll put on my coat,” he said, standing and walking away from her, feeling as if he had moved away from warmth and sunshine, yet at the same time annoyed by the sensation. He yanked on his sheepskin parka, stuffed leather gloves in his pocket and jammed a broad-brimmed black Stetson on his head. Picking up her parka, he turned to find her watching him.
He crossed to the bed and she sat up, swinging her feet over the side. She paused, studying her slacks. “Did I dream I tried to get out of bed?”
“No. I caught you when you fell, and helped you back to bed. You’ve injured your ankle.”
“I didn’t think I was dressed,” she said, her cheeks flushing slightly.
“I took off your slacks to tend to your injured thigh, but when I saw we had to go to the hospital in Albuquerque, I put your slacks back on you,” he said in what he hoped was an impersonal tone. Her blush deepened while she looked away.
As he helped her into the coat, his fingers brushed her nape and her shoulders and he was intensely aware of each contact. She slanted him a thoughtful glance.
“I feel as if I’ve known you a long time.”
“I never met you before your car wrecked on my property,” he said evenly, trying to keep his voice impassive and curb his anger.
She frowned and bit her lip, and his gaze was drawn to the small, even white teeth that bit slightly into her rosy, full underlip. As he watched her, the pink tip of her tongue touched her upper lip and he felt desire stir, a curiosity to lean down and taste her lips and tongue and mouth that looked so enticing.
“I don’t have any difficulty remembering your name.”
He shrugged and began to fasten the front of her coat, zipping it closed as if she were a child. “I remember how to do that,” she said with a trace of amusement, and he looked into her eyes, seeing a warmth that made him like her in spite of her errand.
He smoothed her collar, brushing her hair back from her face, suddenly reluctant to move away from her. The moment he realized what he was doing, he stood, pushing up his sleeve to look at his watch.
“Let’s go to the kitchen to wait.” When he picked her up, she slid her arm around his neck. He tried to ignore the pleasant fit of her in his arms as well as her delicate scent that was growing familiar now.
“Where am I?”
“You’re in northern New Mexico in the mountains.”
“That means nothing to me,” she said with panic in her voice. “I don’t remember where I live or my name or why I’m here. Would you know if I lived near you?”
“You don’t. I own a spread of land on this mountain and along the valley—I raise cattle. The only other people in the valley are boys on a ranch for homeless kids.”
“I don’t know why I was driving in this storm, but I feel as if there’s something I need to do.”
He crossed through the kitchen and hooked his toe beneath a bar stool to pull it out and set her on it. “We’ll wait here for the chopper. I expect it within the next five minutes.” The husky followed them into the room, walking up to the woman and wagging his tail. As she scratched his ears, his tail wagged faster.
“His name’s Fella.” Ben handed her gloves to her and flipped the parka over her head, fastening it beneath her chin. She watched him solemnly, and he felt caught in the probing look, feeling an electric tension spark between them. His fingers stilled while her gaze seemed to wrap around him and pull him closer into a warmth that he needed.
His gaze lowered to her mouth, and then he raised his eyes back to hers. Fire danced in the emerald depths, and her eyelids drooped in a sensual look. His heart pounded in his chest, and he felt as if danger threatened him while at the same time, desire was as hot as a flame curling inside him. He slid his hand beneath her hood behind her neck, pulling her head toward him as his gaze lowered to her mouth again.
“We’re strangers,” she whispered.
“That might make it better,” he answered in a husky, cynical voice.
“I know I can trust you with my life,” she said solemnly, “because I wouldn’t have survived out there in the storm.”
He was torn between wanting to savage her mouth, to take her lips and kiss her with all the passion and anger and curiosity he felt, to let her know she had voluntarily sought out the wolf in his lair and she would have to pay the price. At the same time, her eyes were trusting and warm with a sensuality that should be savored—a combination of innocent trust and womanly certainty that rocked him and made him want to brush her lips lightly with his own. He wanted to take care and time to ignite the passion that he suspected she was capable of. The thought startled him, and he wondered why he felt that way about her when he didn’t even know her.
His gaze was locked with hers again and he saw her reaction; she wanted his kiss. Was she one of the high-priced call girls, the thousand-dollar-a-night babes his father thought would entice him? Or one of the special ones who played for higher stakes, trying to win his heart because of Weston’s money? Anger surged and then ebbed as he looked down at her lips and slowly leaned his head closer. Her lashes lowered, and she closed her eyes while she placed her palms against his chest.
The pulsating clatter of the helicopter’s motor grew louder, cutting into the spell and making Ben swear silently as he paused only inches from her. She turned her head toward the door.
“Here comes the helicopter.” The note of fear in her voice was mirrored in her eyes when she gripped his hand. “Will you stay with me? You’re the only person I know.”
“I’ll be with you,” he promised gruffly, suspecting when memory returned, she would regret keeping him close and guessing that the fear was uncustomary for her. She had been brave—or foolhardy—enough to try to get to his place in a blinding storm, determined enough to feel she could successfully follow Weston’s wishes and bring the wayward son home.
Ben picked her up and she wound her arms around his neck again. When he opened the door, the husky bounded outside, barking at the noisy chopper as it set down only yards from the house, a dark bulk in the bright lights and brilliant snow.
Ben hurried to it, climbing inside while medics took her from his arms. Catching a glimpse of Zeb as he strode toward the house, Ben waved and saw Zeb wave in return.
When the chopper lifted, Ben rode beside her, holding her hand in his, aware she kept her gaze on him steadily while they whisked skyward. He glanced down at his place, the snow sparkling in the brightness of the yard lights and then they swept across the darkened land and he saw the shadows of spruce and pine and boulders that were dark against the snow. For an instant he felt a surge of satisfaction that came occasionally when he looked at his land. He had bought the first acres with savings and he was gradually enlarging, determined to carve a life for himself here, far removed from his past.
Like a noisy spinning top, the chopper raced across the night sky to set down outside a hospital in Albuquerque.
When she was taken to Emergency, Ben stood at the admitting desk, filling out papers, signing that he would be responsible for the bills.
“Ben,” a deep voice said, and Ben glanced around to see a lanky, white-coated doctor. Ben moved away from the desk to talk to his friend, tall, sandy-haired Kyle Whittaker, who folded his arms and leaned against the wall to listen as Ben related how he had found Jennifer and taken her home.
“She doesn’t remember anything, and I didn’t find any identification,” Ben said, knowing he was holding back on his friend, but he wanted to talk to Weston before the hospital was involved.
“We’ll check her over. The memory loss may be gone within hours.”
“That’s what I figured.”
“Since you don’t know her, do you want to wait or turn it over to us and the Albuquerque police to locate her family?”
“I’ll wait.”
Kyle arched a sandy eyebrow and studied Ben. “That’s not the answer I expected.”
Ben shrugged. “She seems vulnerable right now.”
“I’ll keep you informed.”
Ben nodded and watched him walk away. In minutes Ben finished admittance formalities at the desk and he crossed the lobby to a narrow alcove with pay phones. With one quick call he could get her identity and have someone come pick her up and take her to Dallas where she belonged. He stared at the phone and felt a momentary reluctance as he remembered gazing into her green eyes and recalled the soft touch of her fingers on his cheek.
“Dammit.” He swore and picked up the phone, punching numbers. The receiver lifted on the third ring.
“You’ve reached 555-3210,” came an unfamiliar brisk male voice. “We are unable to come to the phone now. Please leave your message, your name, your number, and we will get back with you when possible.”
Ben swore again as he waited. A loud beep rang in his ear and he gripped the phone tightly. “Weston, I have to talk to you. You know the number. Your messenger was in a car wreck.” Ben slammed down the phone and thought of the executives who worked for his father. He could call one of them, but they wouldn’t do anything until his father gave orders.
Then he thought of Mark Kisiel, vice president of Falcon Drilling and a man Ben had always respected. He called Information, got Mark’s number and dialed, getting another recorded message. At the sound of the beep, Ben moved closer to the phone. “Mark, this is Ben. The woman messenger has been in a wreck. She isn’t badly injured, but she doesn’t belong here. Get my father to call. He knows the number.” Ben replaced the receiver and stared at the phone, finally deciding he couldn’t do anything else until he heard from his father or Mark.
Ben strode toward the double glass doors and stared at the yellow lights in the parking lot. The snow was still falling in the golden circles cast by the lamps, spreading in shiny, wet puddles on the slushy, salt-covered asphalt. He could tell them to contact his father about Jennifer and walk out now, leaving her in the care of the hospital and the police. Instead, he turned around and sat on a vinyl chair, staring at the snow while he waited, suspecting his father’s birthday last month had triggered this intrusion. Perhaps Weston was finally facing his own mortality and wanted to try again to bring his son back into the business. Bitterness and a coldness more chilling than the snow filled Ben. He closed his eyes and sat quietly waiting.
“Ben?”
Ben rose and crossed the room to Kyle who was marking something on a chart. “Dr. Hobson checked her, too,” Kyle said. “She has a mild concussion, no internal bleeding, no hemorrhaging. She’s bruised a rib, sprained her ankle. Beyond that, it’s minor cuts and bruises, and you did a nice job of tending her wounds. I want to keep her overnight for observation. In this storm, you can’t get out anyway.”
“I can go home in daylight the same way I got in. Put her in a room, and tomorrow I’ll charter a chopper to take us home.”
“That’ll be a big bill for a total stranger,” Kyle said, studying him more closely. Ben had known Kyle in college and when Ben had moved to the area, he had been surprised the first time he had broken a rib riding in a rodeo and had encountered Kyle at the hospital. Since then, when Ben was in Albuquerque, they occasionally had lunch together. Ben could count close friends on the fingers of one hand, but the orthopedic surgeon was one of them.
Ben shrugged. “I have to get back to the ranch tomorrow. My cattle will need hay dropped, so I can use the chopper before I send it back. When will her memory return?”
“I didn’t tell her—if it doesn’t return within two weeks, it may not return at all.” Kyle tucked the clipboard under his arm. “Where will you stay tonight?”
“I’ll get one of those lounge chairs in her room and I’ll stay with her.”
Curiosity burned in Kyle’s brown eyes, but he merely nodded.
“Kyle, I think my father sent her here,” Ben said quietly.
Kyle’s sandy brows raised in question. “I thought he’d quit coming after you. You know who she is?” he asked, annoyance creeping into his voice.
“No, I don’t, but she drifted in and out of consciousness when I first picked her up, and one time she tried to push me out of the way. She said she had to find Ben Falcon. That’s when I realized she didn’t remember everything because she didn’t recognize me. The next time she regained consciousness, she didn’t remember that much.”
“Damn. If she knew your name, he must have sent her. Call him and get him to pick her up.” Kyle slanted his head, curiosity back in his eyes. “Unless you want to keep her around for a while.”
“I did call him while you were checking her over. I couldn’t get through—his answering machine took my message—so I called one of his men and left a message. Tomorrow I should get a response.”
Kyle shook his head. “Sorry if you’re going another nine rounds with him. I’d think by now he would realize you have your own life.”
“My father can see things only one way,” Ben answered flatly. “Until I hear from him or her memory returns, I’ll stay with her.”
He received another curious look from Kyle. “You’ve had sprains before, so you know what to do—ice tonight and tomorrow. Then have her soak her foot in hot water a couple of times a day. Four or five days and her foot should be okay. Still have crutches?”
“Yeah. Will it be worse for her to tell her what I suspect?”
“No, it won’t. Go ahead. We’ll check on her through the night. If nothing changes, we’ll release her early in the morning.”
“Okay. Thanks, Kyle, for coming out here in this storm.”
