A Man She Couldn’t Forget (12 page)

“Brady, I’m sorry.” Samantha’s voice on the left. Her tone was angry. “You don’t need this.”

He couldn’t respond.

From his right, Juliana rubbed his back and leaned her head on his shoulder. “We’re here, Brade. It’s okay.”

He guessed it had to be, since the writing, so to speak, was on the wall. And this time he wasn’t going to justify Clare’s choice of Jonathan over him. This time he wasn’t going to fool himself into thinking things were different.

“Oh,” Sam said.

Brady didn’t move at her exclamation. He wanted to shut out the world.

Jules nudged him. “Brady.”

Sighing, he raised his head. And frowned. “What? What’s going on?”

Clare stood in the doorway. She gave him a half smile. “I’m not flying to New York with Jonathan. I was fuzzy from sleep or I wouldn’t have gone out the door with him in the first place.” She came closer, dropped to her knees and grasped his hands. “I may have gone back on my word in the past, but I’m not doing it again. I’m here for you, Brady, for as long as you need me.”

Her tone was so sincere that Brady wanted badly to believe her. “You promise?”

She smiled up at him. “Yes. And it’s a promise I’ll keep.”

H
IS HANDS WERE MAGIC
on her body. Clare sighed as he kneaded her breasts, kissed the swell of each one, closed his mouth over a nipple.

“Ahh,” she moaned, clasping his head to keep him where he was. His dark hair curled at his neck, and she weaved her fingers through it.

“I knew you’d like this.”

Again, she moaned.

He slid his palm down her rib cage, over her stomach, and cupped her. His mouth followed the trail.

“Oh, oh, Brady…”

Clare awoke with a start. Disoriented, she glanced around the room and checked the other side of the bed. The covers were jumbled and a pillow lay on the floor, but she was alone. Her heart racing, her body taut, she realized she was seriously aroused.

“Hell!” she murmured, lying back on the pillow and pushing her hair out of her face. The fan whirred above her and she watched the white blades go round. “What was that all about?”

You know, Clare. Be honest with yourself.

All right, she
did
know the answer to her question. Over the past week, she’d spent all her time with Brady, both at the hospital and one night back at the condo when he’d slept in her bed with her, though they were both fully clothed. Even in the three days since Lillian had come home, and Brady had been staying at his mom’s, Clare had gone over during the day. She kept him company, cooked for them both and froze food for later. She entertained Lillian by asking for stories about the recipes, so Brady could take a break or run errands.

All the while, something had grown between her and Brady. Whether they were old feelings resurrected or new ones blossoming, Clare felt closer to him than to anyone else; she treasured the fact that she was able to help him and she relished her time with him. It was almost like…falling in love.

The thought stunned her. They were friends. Best friends.

Then why, she asked herself as she flung back the covers, did she crave his touch, want to feel his skin beneath her hands, yearn for him to give her more than a peck on the cheek? There must be more to what she was feeling, and today she’d talk to her therapist about it. She had an appointment in two hours.

The phone rang as she finished her shower. Wrapped in a thirsty red towel, her hair damp, she answered it.

“Hey, Clare.”

“Hi, Cathy. There’s nothing wrong, is there?”

“No. I’m just leaving Arizona. I should be in Rockford at four.”

“I’ll be waiting at the airport.”

“I can take a cab.”

“No way. See you then.”

More positive feelings filled her. Cathy was coming to spend a week with her. They were going to be together—like old times, her sister had said—and it delighted Clare.

She’d just hung up the phone when it rang again. “Hello.”

“Hello, Clarissa.” Jonathan’s voice, cold and distant on the other end. He’d been this way all week because she’d insisted he cancel the New York trip, and because she hadn’t seen him in four days. She recalled now that he often distanced himself when he was hurt. The knowledge softened her attitude toward him. “Are you well?” he asked.

“Yes.” A pause. “Are you?”

“No, of course not. I’d like to see you.”

She hedged. “Cathy’s coming today.”

“It would be nice to finally meet her.”

“You’ve never met my sister?”

“Ah, no, you didn’t see much of her in the last year, when we were dating seriously.”

Guilt swamped Clare, dousing all the positive feelings she’d just experienced. She hadn’t seen her sister in a year? She’d been told they were estranged, but this much?

“Clarissa?”

Another kind of guilt made her remember all Jonathan had done for her. His comment about Cathy reminded Clare how she had abandoned a lot of people in the past, and it was time to turn that around. So she said, “Why don’t you come to dinner tomorrow night? I’ll cook your favorite meal.”

“That would be great.” He sounded relieved. And pleased.

“Um, Jonathan, what
is
your favorite?”

A pause. “Your Chicken Cordon Bleu.”

“Oh, good.” Silence. “I’m sorry about not being able to see you all week.” Which was only partly true.

“I understand. Langston’s needs came first.”

“His mother—”

“No, honey, don’t. We aren’t going to fight about this again.”

He’d lost his temper in the hall at the hospital, as he did about anything concerning her time with Brady. Clare had accused him of being selfish, and he’d left in a huff when she declared she was staying with the Langstons. She hated hurting him, but down deep it felt right to be making her own decisions again.

He added, “We can work through this. We can work through anything.”

Clare had a blinding flash of him saying that to her before, but it was gone before she could remember where or when. And it wasn’t a good memory. It made her feel cold again.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow at around seven.”

Another pause. “I love you, Clarissa.”

Oh, damn. He hadn’t said those words to her since she’d awakened from the coma. Another memory came, Jonathan’s voice loud and clear…

I love you, Clarissa…I’ve always loved you…This doesn’t change anything.

Her head began to pound. Not another headache. She hadn’t had one all week and willed the pain back. “I care about you, too, Jonathan.” She couldn’t manage more. “I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Dropping down on the bed, she sat there immobile for a few seconds. Running her hand across the quilt, she shook her head. She’d dreamed Brady was making love to her. Yet, Jonathan told her today—and in the past, obviously—that he loved her. And Brady said she had been planning to move in with Jonathan, for God’s sake. Why couldn’t she remember the course of events that led to her accident?

She became even more agitated on the drive over to the hospital for her therapy appointment, thinking about Brady and the dream the whole way. By the time Anna Summers opened her office door and Clare stepped inside, she was a wreck.

As soon as she sat, Anna gave her a once-over. “You’re upset. More memories?”

“Who the hell knows what they are?”

A sympathetic smile. “It’s common to get frustrated when the past comes back in pieces, incomplete and confusing. But the good news is that things
are
coming back, and that means your memory is returning. My guess is it won’t be too much longer until you have the whole picture.”

She stared at Anna. “I’m not sure I want the whole picture anymore.”

“Why?”

“Anna, something’s not right in my life. I dreamed last night that Brady was making love to me.”

“Hmm. You are close. Unusually close for being only friends.”

“But we
are
just friends.”

“As I said before, dreams aren’t a reflection of reality, Clare. Or even what you want reality to be. These particular ones could be manifesting the closeness you feel toward Brady in a different way.”

“But it was so real. I woke…aroused.”

“That’s understandable, too. You haven’t had sex in weeks.”

“Wouldn’t I want sex with Jonathan?”

“It would seem reasonable.”

“I don’t. I don’t feel attracted to him, today in the present.”

“And before you were?”

“He says I was. And surely, if we’ve been together for over a year, we’ve made love. He said as much.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

She tugged at the hem of her blouse, a nervous gesture that didn’t seem at all familiar. “Why is this happening? With Brady? It’s affecting how I feel when I’m with him.”

“Maybe you were always attracted to him on some level and just suppressed it. Maybe he feels that, too.”

“Why wouldn’t we have acted on it? We’ve been friends for ten years.”

“I’m not sure. Could you ask him about it?”

“I usually feel like I could ask him anything. But his mother just came home from the hospital, and I don’t want to upset him.”

“For what it’s worth, looking at this psychologically, it seems to me you’re closer to Brady than to Jonathan.”

“All my friends, including Brady, say I wasn’t close to any of them anymore.”

“Yes, it does appear contradictory. But that’s the nature of amnesia.” Anna shrugged. “Did you write down this dream, too?”

“Ah, no.”

Anna smiled. “Clare, I’m not a prude.”

“Anna, this dream was so hot I’m not sure I can get it down on paper.”

They both laughed aloud.

“All right. I’ll give you a pass on this one.”

Clare sobered. “There’s something else, too.” She sighed, not wanting to recall the discussion she’d had with Brady on movie night. “Brady thinks he’s responsible for my amnesia.”

“Why on earth would he think that?”

“He says we had a fight late that night about my moving out.”

“You were moving out of the condo?”

“And in with Jonathan.”

“Why didn’t anyone give you that piece of information before this?”

“Brady said they were following doctors’ orders not to reveal too much too soon.” She frowned. “He thinks our argument is what sent me into the night.”

Anna came to the edge of her seat. “Honestly? Was it right before the accident?”

She nodded. “I think so, but I can’t figure out why one more argument with Brady would be enough to cause memory loss. I know we’d been fighting a lot then.”

“I’m leaning toward something more happening that night.”

“Damn it. Why can’t I remember?”

“You’re trying too hard. Relax and let it come on its own, as the other memories have.”

Clare left her session with Anna feeling vaguely unsatisfied. She got in her car and drove out to the suburbs. To Brady’s house. To Brady. She knew the way.

He answered the door barefoot and bare-chested, wearing only low-slung denim shorts. Clare thought she might just swallow her tongue when she saw him. “Hey, there, gorgeous, come on in.” His hair was damp from the shower, and his skin gleamed.

She gawked.

“You okay?”

“Um, yeah. Just killing time till Cathy comes.”

Tugging her inside, he left the door open to the screen, allowing the warm July air inside. “You must be excited about seeing your sister.”

She noticed his chest was a little damp. Droplets nestled in the springy hair there. “Excited?”

“Hey, earth to Clare?”

“Oh, sorry. Yeah, I can’t wait to see her. I have a feeling a lot of memories will come back.”

There it was again. The wariness in Brady’s eyes when her memory returning completely was mentioned. How odd, too, since he’d already confessed what had happened that night.

“Clare, you’re spacing out again. Are you sure everything’s all right?”

“I don’t know. I have a lot to think about.”

“I’m here if you want to talk.”

She nodded. “I know you are. But I’m not ready yet. I’m anxious to see Cathy, though.”

They were still inside the foyer. “Sweetheart, I know I mentioned this before, but you and Cathy haven’t been close for a while.”

“Jonathan said the same thing this morning. He’s never met her.”

“You were, um, with Jonathan this morning?” Brady’s tone was strained and he was frowning.

“No, I talked to him on the phone before my therapy appointment.”

“Oh, good. How did the appointment go?”

“Don’t ask.” She pushed back her hair. “I feel bad about my estrangement from my own sister. Same old, same old, I guess.”

“I hope you aren’t disappointed.”

“You’re sweet to be concerned. Now, can I visit your mom? I thought I might cheer her up by talking about some recipes.”

She started down the hall, but he headlocked her from behind, the gesture meant to be playful. When he drew her close, his scent of soap and aftershave just about knocked her off her feet. The last thing she needed now was to be feeling Brady’s almost naked body against her.

Still, she closed her eyes and steeped herself in his closeness. His chest was warm, solid, muscled. His scent enveloped her. She felt safe but energized. Cared for but desired.

Desired? Oh, God, just like in the dream.

C
LARE HUGGED
C
ATHY AGAIN
when they got inside her condo. She’d remembered her sister as soon as she’d come into the arrivals area at the airport. It wasn’t a flashback, it wasn’t because she’d seen pictures, it was because she
knew
this woman. They were flesh and blood, and her very cells felt the connection. “I’m so glad you came.”

Cathy was more petite than Clare, her hair lighter, but their eyes were the same color. She seemed anxious, too, which made Clare sad. “
I’m
so glad you remember me.”

“I do. Other than Brady, you’re the only person I know intuitively.”

Cathy grinned.

“Come on, I’ll show you where you can stay.” She led Cathy into her office, which had a sofa bed across the room from her desk and bookshelves.

“Are you sure you want me to sleep in here? I won’t be in the way?”

“Of course not. Why?”

“Since you started the TV show, you’ve been pretty protective of your work space. The last time I came to Rockford, I stayed in a hotel.”

Like a movie screen showing flashbacks, she saw Cathy openmouthed when Clare had pulled up to a hotel…

You’re kidding, right?

Look, Cathy, I’ve got my stuff spread all over the office. You’ll be more comfortable here.

Maybe I shouldn’t have come.

Don’t start that again. This isn’t a big deal…

Clare frowned. “I remember. It’s terrible that I made you stay at a hotel. I’m so sorry, Cath.”

“Let’s forget about that. I’m just happy to be here today.”

“I’ll let you get settled while I start cooking us some supper.”

Clare headed to the kitchen and crossed to the shelf where her cookbooks were. Number five had My Baby Sister’s Choice, beef burgundy. Trying to forget what kind of person she’d been to her own flesh and blood, Clare got out the chuck roast she’d bought and cut earlier, and put it on the stove to brown. She also took out the vegetables and began preparing them to add to the dish when she put everything into the oven. The sautéing meat smelled good and she…Oh, sharp pain made Clare step back from the stove and grab her head. Images burst through her brain…