Table of Contents

Cover Page

Excerpt

Dear Reader

Title Page

Dedication

About the Author

Dear Reader

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Epilogue

Copyright

“Come and give me a kiss,”

Nick said, certain there were worse ways to wake up with amnesia. Emily jumped visibly. “I just want a kiss,” he chided gently. “I didn’t ask you to make love to me.”

The pink in her cheeks deepened. “I know, I just thought…” She shrugged and stepped closer. “Nick,” she protested as he drew her down onto the hospital bed, “I really don’t think this is the…ah…place.”

Nick. He could get used to being called Nick, especially with that breathless way Emily had of talking. Lifting his arm, he traced the delicate lines of her face. Her skin was like the finest silk. Her lips were moist and velvety. And she had a faintly stubborn line to her jaw, which contrasted adorably with her angelic sweetness.

Nick couldn’t remember being in love with his wife…but he’d immediately fallen into lust!

Dear Reader,

What a special lineup of love stories Silhouette Romance has for you this month. Bestselling author Sandra Steffen continues her BACHELOR GULCH miniseries with Clayton’s Made-Over Mrs. And in The Lawman’s Legacy, favorite author Phyllis Halldorson introduces a special promotion called MEN! Who says good men are hard to find?! Plus, we’ve got Julianna Morris’s Daddy Woke up Married—our BUNDLES OF JOY selection—Love, Marriage and Family 101 by Anne Peters, The Scandalous Return of Jake Walker by Myrna Mackenzie and The Cowboy Who Broke the Mold by Cathleen Galitz, who makes her Silhouette debut as one of our WOMEN TO WATCH.

I hope you enjoy all six of these wonderful novels. In fact, I’d love to get your thoughts on Silhouette Romance. If you’d like to share your comments about the Silhouette Romance line, please send a letter directly to my attention: Melissa Senate, Senior Editor, Silhouette Books, 300 E. 42nd St., 6th Floor, New York, NY 10017. I welcome all of your comments, and here are a few particulars I’d like to have your feedback on:

1) Why do you enjoy Silhouette Romance?

2) What types of stories would you like to see more of? Less of?

3) Do you have favorite authors?

Your thoughts about Romance are very important to me. After all, these books are for you! Again, I hope you enjoy our six novels this month—and that you’ll write me with your thoughts.

Regards,

Melissa Senate

Senior Editor

Silhouette Books

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

Daddy Woke Up Married
Julianna Morris

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Carol Duncan, for all your support and advice.

To Micki and Peg, for your words of encouragement when

I really needed them. And a special thanks to Cathleen,

for your enthusiasm and help as an editor.

JULIANNA MORRIS

has an offbeat sense of humor, which frequently gets her into trouble. She is often accused of being curious about everything…her interests ranging from oceanography and photography to traveling, antiquing, walking on the beach and reading science fiction. Choosing a college major was extremely difficult, but after many changes she earned a bachelor’s degree in environmental science.

Julianna’s writing is supervised by a cat named Gandalf, who sits on the computer monitor and criticizes each keystroke. Ultimately, she would like a home overlooking the ocean, where she can write to her heart’s content—and Gandalf’s malcontent. She’d like to share that home with her own romantic hero, someone with a warm, sexy smile, lots of patience and an offbeat sense of humor to match her own. Oh, yes…and he has to like cats.

Dear Reader,

A recent acquaintance of mine freezes when babies are mentioned. He literally seems paralyzed by the thought of an unpredictable little human who can scream and make a dirty diaper at the same time. Poor guy, he doesn’t know what he’s missing.

These unpredictable little humans are precious gifts. Each one is different, and unique, and a miracle in his or her own right. They will walk into the future with the lessons of life and love imparted by parents, teachers, friends and even strangers. They are frightening and wonderful.

And babies are fun! They laugh and play with their toes. They fingerpaint with strained peas and carrots. Each day they grow a little more, expanding their world, and getting into mischief. I remember countless times my nephews and nieces did something “naughty,” and I’d be laughing so hard, I couldn’t scold them.

Someday when I hold my own bundle of joy, I know I’ll be overwhelmed, terrified and deliriously happy. They are a huge responsibility, and a remarkable privilege— truly creations of the heart. As for the dirty diapers? They’re a small price to pay.

Best wishes…

Chapter One

“Is it safe up there?”

“Define safe.”

Emily put her hands on her hips and glared at the man perched on her roof. He looked like an actor in a Coke commercial—faded jeans, no shirt, and sweat gleaming on his pectoral muscles. Not to mention brown hair, brown eyes and a smile that had cut swaths through feminine hearts from Seattle to Singapore. If she hadn’t grown up with Nick Carleton treating her like his baby sister, she might have thought he was sexy. Instead, she mostly thought he was aggravating.

“That isn’t funny. You know exactly what I mean.”

Nick grinned to himself. He could always count on Emily to get huffy when he teased her. She was a nice kid, though she drove him crazy half the time—it only seemed fair to do the same to her. “Guilty conscience? As I recall, you ordered me to fix your leaky roof. And me on vacation, no less.”

“Would you prefer me to fix it myself?” she asked sweetly. She shooed her cat, GeeZee, away from the ladder and put her foot on the bottom rung. “I’ll come up now.”

Damn. He scowled into her mischievous blue eyes. “You get on that ladder and I’ll paddle your bottom.”

“I’m so-o-o scared.”

“Brat,” Nick muttered.

“I heard that.” Emily stepped back and grinned. Nick was a dear, even if he had the mentality of a Neanderthal. When he’d learned the details of her first marriage, he’d wanted to rip Kevin’s heart out and stuff it down his throat. Emily had been tempted to let him. The muscles in her jaw tightened for an instant as she thought about Kevin.

“Hey, kid. Something wrong?”

Emily relaxed at the gentle tone in Nick’s voice, then shook her head. Kevin wasn’t a part of her life anymore; she didn’t have to think about him. “I’m fine.”

“Sure? You aren’t…er…yourself right now.”

Her nose wrinkled. “You worry too much.” She patted her rounded stomach. She hadn’t begun wearing real maternity clothes around the house—relying on roomy summer knits—but her pregnancy was unquestionably showing. “I’m only going to have a baby.”

“I remember. Perfectly,” Nick said distinctly.

She smothered a laugh at his red-faced expression. Nick’s reaction had been typically male when she’d confided her desire for a baby, and her decision to have one through the medical alternative to sex. He’d stomped out of the house with his sense of propriety offended. Several hours later he’d returned with an outrageous proposal… he’d donate the sperm, and in return would get to play a role in his child’s life. But he’d had one con dition—they had to get married, at least until after the baby arrived.

At first she’d thought it was a ridiculous idea. But after a lengthy argument, it began to make sense. Nick was a perennial bachelor, with a job that took him out of the country on a regular basis. He’d probably never get married and have children. This way he could be a father without having to face any of those things, which as a man, he was naturally averse to…commitment and dirty diapers.

A platonic marriage—with separate residences—fit Nick’s overly protective attitude toward her and seemed perfect for them both.

Even so, Emily knew he’d found his participation in the artificial insemination procedure terribly embarrassing, and she was grateful she’d succeeded in getting pregnant on their first trip to the doctor’s office.

“Don’t think about it,” she advised him. “Besides, you were the one who insisted on being the father.”

“That’s not the point. Say, did you know that if you lean way over like this, you can see the harbor from here?”

Emily rolled her eyes at the blatant change of subject. “I can see Crockett Harbor from the front, why do I care about the back?” She added in a muttered undertone, “Chicken.”

“I heard that.”

“Fine. If the feathers fit…?”

“You—”

Nick’s protest ended abruptly as his foot skidded against a loose piece of roofing material. Unbalanced by leaning “way over like this,” he tumbled over the edge.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The ladder tottered and crashed, a shower of shingles flew across the yard in a frenzied arc, and GeeZee gave out a screeching howl before flying under the hydrangea bush.

Emily didn’t scream…not quite. But she gasped and rushed to where Nick lay tangled with the ladder.

“Nick?”

Nothing, not even a groan. But the single drop of blood trickling down his forehead convinced her this wasn’t one of his usual gags.

“Lord,” she muttered and raced into the house. She grabbed the phone and dialed for emergency services. “Hello?” she said breathlessly into the receiver. “My…er…husband just fell off the roof.” It felt strange saying Nick was her husband, but much easier than going into a lengthy explanation—that they were only married on paper.

The dispatcher responded with soothing efficiency, eliciting facts in a clear, concise fashion. She promised a rescue unit would be sent immediately.

With a muttered “thank you” Emily dropped the receiver and hurried outside. Nick blinked and groaned, and Emily sagged with relief. It was small comfort to be sure, but at least he was alive—breathing was always better than not breathing.

“Nick…can you hear me? Are you all right?” she asked.

He mumbled something indiscernible.

The wail of sirens reassured her, though she could tell from the pained expression in his confused brown eyes that he didn’t appreciate the noise. The sirens stopped in front of the house, and a minute later three men in emergency uniforms hurried through the gate by the garage, followed closely by a couple of Crockett, Washington, police officers and several firemen.

“You’ll be all right,” Emily whispered. She lightly touched Nick’s hand. It was all her fault, she shouldn’t have distracted him while he was working. At least he’d fallen from the one-story roof of the porch, rather than the second level of the old house.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” one of the rescue workers murmured. He patted Emily’s shoulder and took her place at Nick’s side. “Let’s take a look here.”

“He fell,” she explained quite unnecessarily—since there wasn’t any other explanation for the ladder, scattered shingles and Nick’s obvious injuries. “He was knocked out for a minute.”

Without actually ignoring her, they checked Nick’s vital signs, tried to get a coherent answer, strapped him into a neck brace and backboard, and lifted him onto the stretcher. Between the bandages and brace he looked awful.

Emily followed them to the ambulance, her hands trembling with alarm. “Sh…should I take my own car?”

Their gaze settled on the unmistakable swell of her stomach. “Er…no, ma’am. You’re pretty shaken up. You’d better ride with your husband.”

“Husband?” Nick muttered. “Whose husband? Cripes, my head hurts.”

“Take it easy, mister. Your wife is right here,” the leader of the rescue team assured.

Emily chafed impatiently when they insisted on taking her blood pressure and pulse before starting for the hospital. “I’m fine,” she said. “Let’s go.” As the sirens wailed again she dropped her head back and took several long, deep, calming breaths. So much for a quiet summer weekend.

Ouch.

His first truly coherent thought was that every molecule in his body hurt. And the rocking and jolting beneath him didn’t help a bit.

After a while most of the rocking stopped and a pencil-thin beam of light stabbed into his eyes. “Damn,” he said aloud.

“Good, he’s conscious. Nick? Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Nick? Who the hell was Nick, he wondered. Was it him? Somewhere in his pain-fogged head he remembered seeing a blue-eyed angel who was supposed to be his wife, but the details seemed too much to grasp. Angels didn’t get married, they sat on clouds playing harps. So maybe that meant he was dead.

“Nick,” the voice repeated, “do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, hoping they’d just be quiet.

“Good. We’re taking you in for some X rays,” the voice informed him. “I don’t think anything is broken, but I want to be sure.”

Hell.

They weren’t going to leave him alone. But apparently he wasn’t dead, though it might be a pleasant alternative to his present state. He endured another bit of jolting, then some idiot told him to hold still. Very funny. He wasn’t a masochist. He didn’t have any intention of moving…not for about a million years.

The lights flashing overhead hurt his eyes, so he closed them tightly. A warm fog slid around him, soothing the pain, blocking out the demanding voices and pushy hands. He wished the angel was back. Her voice had been soft and melodic. Much nicer than these sadists.

After a while he grew annoyed with the poking and prodding and quietly insistent demands from unfamiliar voices. But when he finally pried his eyes open he found the pain had settled to a dull throb.

A door opened in the background, then a white-coated woman leaned over him.

“Where am I?” he asked, his throat raspy.

“In the hospital. You should learn not to jump off the roof—it’s too hard on the body. You’re not exactly Superman, you know.”

“Very funny.” He glared at the doctor, who obviously had learned her bedside manner from the Marx brothers. “Who are you?”

“Hmm…I’m Dr. Wescott. You don’t recognize me?”

A vague alarm clamored through him. “Uh, well, not really. Should I?”

The attractive redhead tapped her fingers on her stethoscope. “Can you tell me your name?” she asked, instead of answering his question.

“Sure, I’m…” The room spun lazily while he fought a growing panic. “I’m…”

Nick.

Husband.

Wife.

They were just words out of the fog, with nothing solid to attach them to. “Uh…my wife, where’s my wife?” He stalled, fighting the mad rush of his heart. Surely he would remember in a minute. He’d remember his identity…his wife.

“You mean Emily?”

“Yeah…Emily.” He grasped at the name, though it didn’t seem any more familiar than Nick had sounded. “Where’s Emily?”

“Waiting outside. She’s been pretty worried about you.”

For some reason that comforted him. Things couldn’t be so bad if the angel was waiting, worried about him. Maybe when he saw her, he’d remember everything.

The doctor put down the side railing of the bed, then lifted his arm and touched the pulse point at his wrist. “We admitted you three hours ago, but you only completely lost consciousness for a couple of minutes right after the accident. That’s good. You’re going to be fine, aside from a few bruises and a mild concussion. I’ll order more tests, but nothing is broken,” she explained.

Nothing but my memory.

“Can you tell me your name?” she asked again.

He sighed. “I think it’s Nick.”

“Good. Now what else do you remember?”

“I don’t even remember that,” he said dismally. “But I heard someone call me Nick.”

“That’s a start. Your name is Nick…Nicholas Carleton. Now, you asked about your wife…?”

His head throbbed worse as he pieced together the brief memories scattered in his brain. “I woke up and a woman was there—some guy said she was my wife. That’s all I know. But hell, at least I’ve got a family. That’s something to be grateful for, right?” Damn. He hated the edge in his voice, the need for reassurance.

“Yes.” The physician nodded. “Okay, let’s try some easy stuff. Do you know who’s president?”

He looked at her in disbelief. “President? I may have amnesia, but even I know that’s a little corny,” he said before answering.

The woman laughed. “I see your personality is intact. We’ll try something else. Do you know what planet you’ on?”

He snorted. “Unless I’ve been abducted by extremely clever aliens, I’m on earth.” Before she could ask anything else, he volunteered a series of impersonal facts. It was strange to realize he could remember who was president of the United States, and the number of innings in a standard baseball game, but couldn’t recall the most basic details of his life.

Dr. Wescott fiddled for another couple of minutes, checking his eyesight and reflexes and asking questions before giving him a reassuring smile. “You have amnesia, Nick. But don’t worry, I’m sure it’s only temporary. It’s not unusual to have some memory loss after a blow to the head.”

Temporary amnesia? He swallowed. Yeah, that sounded possible. He hoped. “Is Emily…can I see her now?”

She patted his shoulder. “Of course, it’ll just be a minute. I need to explain what’s happened.” She walked to the door, and he caught a brief glimpse of the angel on the other side before the door closed again. Not much of a glimpse—just enough to see a pair of slim legs, topped by a trim rear end.

Not bad. Not bad at all.

There were some muffled exclamations from the hall and he stared up at the ceiling, envisioning the conversation going on between the doctor and “Emily.” What a shock to learn your husband doesn’t remember you— it would probably be as hard for her as it was for him. The animated discussion went on for some time, but he only caught a few stray words before it ended abruptly.

When the door opened again he swallowed. A second later his eyes opened wide and he grinned with delight.

Wow!

Emily was pure dynamite, with the eyes of an angel and a body that could send him to heaven. Gold hair hung almost to her waist and she wore skimpy shorts and a close-fitting knit top. His gaze settled on her waist. While she was petite otherwise, her tummy was definitely rounded.

A baby? He felt a surge of possessive pride, though his memory remained as blank as before.

“Hi,” he said happily, certain there were worse ways to wake up with amnesia.

“Er…Dr. Wescott told me you…uh…can’t…”

At the uneasiness in her face he winced. This whole thing was terrible timing. Pregnant women should be treated gently, they didn’t need nasty shocks like hearing their husband had amnesia. No matter how shaky things were for him, he wanted to reassure her.

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember. But the doctor says it’s only temporary.” He held out his hand. “Come and give me a kiss. It’ll probably come right back.”

Emily jumped visibly. “Uh…Nick, are you sure you’ not…well…just kidding around?”

He froze. “What?”

“Well, you do like a good joke.”

For an instant he felt a flash of dislike for his former self. If his wife thought he’d play a practical joke at such a crucial time for her, then he must have been a jerk. “I’m not kidding,” he said quietly. “I can’t imagine doing anything so horrible when you’ pregnant.”

Emily hesitated, stroking her palm over her stomach in a restless gesture that spoke volumes. She probably did that a lot when she was anxious or unhappy, trying to reassure herself that the baby was all right. A soft warmth invaded his heart.

“I mean it. Please kiss me,” he whispered.

She edged toward him, obviously nervous. “Nick, you aren’t yourself. We should wait till you feel better.”

At the moment he felt fine. In fact, he felt like beating on his chest and yelling like Tarzan. Whatever faults his unremembered self suffered from, poor taste in women wasn’t one of them. “I just want a kiss,” he chided gently. “I didn’t ask you to make love to me.”

The pink in her cheeks deepened. “I know, I just thought…” She shrugged diffidently.

A stab of frustration turned the corner of his mouth down. He needed Emily to be herself, not so quiet and uneasy. Or was it him? Was he a good husband, or was he terrible? Looking at her, he could well imagine they spent plenty of time in bed, but after that there was a lot of open territory.

Jeez.

He stirred restlessly, kicking at the blanket over his legs, then changed his mind; he didn’t have to advertise his physical response to Emily, even if she was his wife. And she’d certainly notice…hospital garments didn’t offer much camouflage. He’d have to get something else to wear if he hoped to have some privacy.

“Come here, Angel,” he murmured.

Emily stepped to the edge of the bed. Close up she looked even better than across the room. Naturally dark lashes fringed her clear blue eyes, and her skin was smooth and only lightly touched by the sun. The hair he’d thought was gold was more than that—a shimmering array of darks and lights; gold and fiery glints of chestnut. He could already imagine how it would feel, fragrant and cool, sliding against them…between them.

It was rather exciting, the thought of rediscovering lost sensations. Of rediscovering his life. If he didn’t remember, it wouldn’t be so bad. Everything would be new. Different.

No.

Alarm jolted through him, even worse than when he’d first realized he didn’t remember his own name. He was rationalizing, trying to find a good reason not to panic at the thought of never regaining his memory.

Nick.

My name is Nick, he mouthed silently. And this was his wife, Emily. He had a home and family. A baby was on the way. In an hour…or maybe a few days, he’d get things straight in his head and then everything would be fine. It had to be.

“Are you all right?” he asked. The expression in her big, worried eyes troubled him. “Everything’s okay with the baby, isn’t it? I know this has been a shock.”

“Don’t worry,” she assured him quickly. “My obstetrician is out of town, but Paige…Dr. Wescott gave me a complete examination. I may be little, but I’m tough.”

Tough? He fought a ridiculous impulse to smile. “Angel, you look about as tough as a rose petal.”

The tip of her tongue flicked over her lips. “Er…you always call me Emily. I don’t have any nicknames.”

“I like ‘Angel,’ don’t you? It fits. You look like an angel, all pink and gold. You’ so beautiful.”

“Oh.” A look of surprised pleasure erased the worry in her face, yet it increased his own uneasiness. Emily didn’t seem accustomed to receiving compliments from him, which meant he must have been blind or insensitive—or both—before the accident. “That’s nice…I mean, thank you,” she said softly.

He caught her wrist and threaded their fingers together. For the first time he realized there were hard calluses on his hands, which contrasted with the softness of her skin. The small discovery pleased him for some reason.

“What do I do?” he asked. “For a living?”

“You’ a civil engineer.”

Hmm. It sounded interesting. “Roads, bridges, dams? That kind of thing?”

“Yes. You’ out of town a lot, but you’ on vacation right now,” she explained.

That was a relief. At least he wouldn’t have to start evaluating stress tests or any other formula in the im” mediate future. Stress tests? He thought for a moment and realized there was a lot of highly technical knowledge jumbled in his head. But why was his personal life eluding him?

He pulled on Emily’s hand, drawing his reluctant wife closer. He had to get his memory back, and if kissing this luscious bundle of femininity would help…Well, it was all for the cause.

Emily looked at Nick, and her toes curled. She’d never seen that particular expression on his face before… a kind of sensual appraisal. For her. Awareness flooded her body with startling speed.

Nick thought they were married. Really married—not the convenient sort of marriage it actually was. And the doctor said she couldn’t tell him, not when the truth was so complicated. It would be too traumatic, especially since he’d heard the medics from the ambulance talking about his wife. For the time being she’d have to pretend they were the perfect, loving couple.

“Come here, Angel,” he murmured again, smiling wickedly.

Emily resisted for just a moment. A part of her still believed Nick was playing some sort of elaborate joke and he’d start laughing the minute she came close to kissing him. Marriage or not, they were buddies, not lovers. All her life he’d been like another brother, teasing her in one breath, then tackling the neighborhood bully for calling her a bad name in the next.

Friends.

But there was nothing friendly in the sexy way he kept looking at her…like an ice cream treat on a hot day. With her free hand Emily tugged surreptitiously at her T-shirt, suddenly wishing it was bigger, or that she was wearing some safe, roomy maternity blouse. What was wrong with her? Nick had seen her in a lot less over the years. He’d even seen her in the raw when she was ten— the result of a prank by her obnoxious practical-joke-playing eldest brother.

“Nick,” she protested as he drew her down on the hospital bed. “I really don’t think this is the… ah…place.”

Nick. It sounded a little better now, he decided. He could get used to being called Nick, especially with that breathless way she had of talking. Lifting his arm, he traced the delicate lines of her face, trying to absorb everything as rapidly as possible. Tactile sensations. Physical response. Anything to get his memory back.

Emily’s skin was soft…he knew that. Like the finest silk. And her lips were moist and velvety. He’d bet they tasted every bit as good as they looked. She had a faintly stubborn line to her jaw, which contrasted adorably with her angelic sweetness.

This was awful.

He couldn’t remember being in love with his wife, but he’d immediately fallen into lust. His finger trailed down her throat to the first swell of her breasts, but he hesitated when she trembled.

No, maybe he shouldn’t touch her so intimately. Frustration edged along his nerves. Why couldn’t he remember? For heaven’s sake, he felt guilty for touching his own wife. He’d become a stranger. To her. To himself. He didn’t know the right touches, the right words, he didn’t even know if he was a total, unfeeling, rotten jerk.

“Emily?”

She didn’t meet his gaze. “Yes?”

“We’ okay, aren’t we? I mean, we get along okay, right?”

She smiled a little. “We’ve always been great friends. We kind of grew up together.”

Friends? That didn’t tell him very much. He bypassed the tempting curve of her breasts and rested his palm over the swell of her tummy. “When is the baby due?”

Emily swallowed hard. He could even see the muscles working in her throat. “In December,” she murmured.

“A Christmas baby. That’s nice.” With a small shrug to himself, he decided action was better than wondering and worrying. With a smooth, unhurried motion he drew her across his body.

Emily gasped, but didn’t fight him.

Grinning, he twisted until she rested on the pillow and he could arch over her, his back to the door to give them some privacy. It felt great, even though his abused muscles protested. Rebellion simmered in her blue eyes and a healthy flush of annoyance brightened her skin. Good. He didn’t want her to hide her emotions—he’d never remember a thing about their life if she didn’t act like herself around him.

“Mad at me, Angel?”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Emily’s bottom lip pouted out, and he raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not sure, but it might be that not-so-angelic glare on your face.”

“I told you, I don’t have any nicknames. I’ve never been called an angel in my life.”

“I still like it…Angel.” Ignoring her muffled shriek of protest, he eased his fingers into the shiny thickness of her hair, concentrating on the texture of the cool silken strands. It occurred to him that he ought to be a little less confident—at least for someone whose memory resembled Swiss cheese—but he was enjoying himself too much.

“Let go of me.”

“Uh-uh. I want to kiss my wife.”

Emily gulped as he kissed her forehead. It wasn’t the first time Nick had touched her, she reminded herself. She would just pretend this was like any other platonic hug they’d shared. With this decision in mind, she closed her eyes and waited for the “kiss.”

His laugh was little more than a tremor of movement in his chest. “Going to take your medicine like a good girl?”

Her eyes flew open, flashing blue sparks. That was the old Nick. That was Nick Carleton playing one of his friendly I’m-almost-like-family jokes. Most of the time it wasn’t too bad, but this time he’d gone too far!

Chapter Two

Emily glowered. Some joke.

Amnesia? She’d give Nick worse than amnesia, she’d put him in traction!

“Why you arrogant wretch! I knew you were—”

Her furious diatribe was smothered by Nick’s mouth, hot and open over her own, possessive, his tongue invading her inner softness. On second thought, this wasn’t at all like the Nicholas Carleton she knew. Surely he wouldn’t go to this length for a gag…kissing her so passionately?

If he was fooling, it was an incredible acting job. Emily moaned, the assault on her senses threatening logical deduction.

No, he had to be fooling.

With that thought in mind, Emily drew up her knee to teach Mr. I’m Almost Like Family a lesson he wouldn’t quickly forget. It was then she realized she had proof of something Nick couldn’t fake, and certainly wouldn’t feel if he was just joking. He was leaning over her, pressing his weight along the side of her body. A sheet and blanket covered his hips, but they couldn’t disguise the bold, hard power of his arousal. Her heart skipped into triple time.

“Nick…?”

“Shhh.” His thumb traced her collarbone. “God, Emily. You smell so good…feel so good. I can’t wait until I get out of here. I must be the luckiest man in town. Why can’t I remember?”

Emily gulped, torn by the pain and frustration in his voice. Their friendship was too special to lose—he’d be horribly embarrassed when his memory came back. Imagine, passionately kissing the woman you’d always treated like a kid sister. And what about when she had to take him home from the hospital?

Home…as in a normal marriage with a shared bed.

The breath caught in her throat as Nick’s hand slid lower, carefully cupping her breast. Surprised response spun outward, clenching her abdomen.

“N…no!” She stuttered, pushing his fingers away and fumbling at the hospital bed railing. This was crazy. It was just shock and uncertainty making her respond to his touch. She couldn’t want to sleep with him, could she? Her best friend?

She had to get away, to think.

“Angel…Emily, stop it,” Nick protested, trying to halt her frantic motions as she hung over the side, searching for something to grab on to. “What’s wrong? What did I do?”

At that moment the railing dropped, and Emily slipped, falling toward the floor. Fear swamped all her other emotions.

No! The baby.

With a desperate lunge Nick caught her, the alarm in his face mirroring her own. He dragged her back onto the mattress, swearing a blue streak.

For several seconds Emily lay quietly, breathlessly listening to her heart thud and her husband curse. But when he reached the fifth “dammit all to hell” she’d had enough.

“Quiet!” She wiggled into a semiupright position. “Don’t you dare use that kind of language in front of my baby.”

“It’s my kid, too!”

The sound of laughter startled them both. They turned toward the door and saw a grinning Dr. Wescott. “Good catch, Nick. I see you’ getting back to normal.”

“I’m fine.” He crossed his arms and glared at Emily. “But it’s no wonder I can’t remember my name, my wife probably scared it out of me.”

“I did nothing of the sort. You fell off the roof.”

The doctor laughed again. “You both seem accident prone. I guess it’s a match made in heaven.”

“Thanks a lot,” Emily muttered.

At the moment she could cheerfully strangle Paige Wescott. She should have known better than to choose an old school chum for a doctor. Of course, no one could have predicted Nick would fall off the roof and develop a highly inconvenient case of memory loss.

She carefully brushed her hair from her face, ignoring Nick, who seemed to be handling amnesia a lot better than he deserved. The wretch.

“Are you all right, Angel?” he asked.

“Lord,” she muttered. “You must ask me that a dozen times a day.”

He scowled at her. “Of course I do. Remember me? The husband? Just because I can’t remember doesn’t mean I don’t have a stake in you, or the baby.”

Emily bit her lip, ashamed of the way she’d reacted. Nick wasn’t himself. He’d awakened without a memory, knowing only that he had a wife, without remembering the unusual circumstances of their marriage. Sheesh, what a mess.

“He’s right. I’d better check you over again, just to be sure,” Paige said, still standing at the open doorway with an amused expression on her face. “They’ll be coming to take Nick for more tests, anyway.”

“I feel fine, Doc,” Nick interjected.

“That’s good. But we’ll keep you here for a while, just to be sure.” The physician looked at Emily, still tangled with him on the bed. “Coming?”

“Coming,” Emily muttered. She carefully swung her feet to the floor and received an affectionate pat on her bottom from “the husband.” She gave him a fulminating glance. Amnesia or not, Nick had better watch his hands.

Grinning, Nick watched the two women leave, then tucked his hands behind his head and gazed out the hospital window.

Nicholas Carleton.

Nick.

He turned the name over and over in his mind, yet it didn’t seem any more familiar than it had before.

Nick. My name is Nicholas Carleton.

In a short period of time he’d pieced together several parts of his missing life. Most of it looked pretty good. Some of it he wasn’t so sure about. Let’s see….

Wife? Emily Carleton. Pregnant, saucy and delectable. A definite plus. She might not be an angel, but she got full points in every other category.

Career? Civil engineer, but on vacation. That wasn’t too bad, either.

Home? Presumably a house with a leaky roof—unless he’d been cleaning rain gutters and fell off that way. That made the house a question mark. But if he lived there with Emily it couldn’t be too awful. He already knew Emily could brighten up any place.

Character…?

Hmm. Frowning, he shifted uneasily. He didn’t like the astonished way his wife had responded to his compliments, or her belief he might be playing a practical joke. And what about the baby? She’d said, “Don’t you dare use that kind of language in front of my baby.”

Not our baby, but my baby.

What did that mean…if it meant anything? Were they having trouble in their marriage?

A needle of alarm stabbed through his already aching head. He shouldn’t have teased her so much. Deep down he realized he’d been hiding how terrible he felt inside— lost, alone, as though he was standing on the edge of a precipice with nothing but darkness around him. It had been stupid and insensitive, and had almost resulted in Emily getting hurt herself.

A wave of nausea rolled over him as he recalled the moment when she’d started to fall. He slumped deeper into the bed. The facts he’d gathered didn’t matter—he still didn’t know who he really was, or what kind of man he’d been. There was only one thing he was absolutely certain about…Emily loved and wanted their child.

Surely that meant she loved him a little, too.

Didn’t it?

“I’ll be fine,” Emily said, thanking the deputy sheriff as she got out of the cruiser.

“I’m sure Nick’ll get over this amnesia stuff real quick. Just call if you have any more problems.” Hank McAllister tipped his hat.

Emily sighed. Everyone had been so nice and helpful. It was a great hospital. The nurses had gotten her food, insisting she eat. Then Hank, an old high school pal of Nick and her brother, had come to take her home. There hadn’t been anyone else to call: most of her friends were on vacation, her folks had retired to Arizona, her sisters and younger brother lived out of state, and her real big brother was somewhere in Wyoming or Montana fighting forest fires. Or maybe Idaho.

Frazzled, she wandered into the living room and sank onto the couch.

So far she’d handled her pregnancy easily; no morning sickness, no particular aches and pains or hormonal swings. None of the emotional roller coaster rides her yuppie married-with-children friends had warned her about. She absolutely loved being pregnant. It was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

The soft tick-tock of the mantel clock was the only discernible sound in the house, that and the dripping water faucet Nick had planned to fix after finishing the roof.

Nick…. Emily curled into a ball and burst into tears.

“How did it happen?” she moaned into the cushions.

Everything had been going so perfectly. She was going to have a baby. She’d always wanted kids, and it seemed somehow perfect that Nick would be the father. Sure, getting used to the idea had taken a little while, then everything had fallen into place.

Their marriage hadn’t changed anything. She still took care of his mail and paid his bills when he was out of town. And he was out of town a lot. Nick consulted on projects all over the world. Whenever he did come home he’d cadge meals at her place and sheepishly hand her a bag of laundry in the bargain. Big difference getting married had made.

Now she had a husband with amnesia—an amorous husband with amnesia—who didn’t have any idea they were only friends. And the worst part was knowing how much she’d responded to him. Incredibly. Passionately. Melting like a chocolate bar in his hands. How could they go back to being just friends?

“Mrrooow!”

Opening her eyes, she found herself nose to nose with her cat. “Oh. Hi, GeeZee.” She sniffed.

A rough tongue lapped at the tears on her cheeks. She moved to give the enormous, black-and-white feline room by her side. His booming purr soothed her, and she cuddled him close. “We’ll have to rearrange the house a little. We have to make it look like Nick lives here,” she muttered. “Paige says we can’t upset him with the truth.”

Emily wiggled, hoping to get more comfortable so she could take a nap. GeeZee merowled and gave her a disgusted look, so she scratched his neck and tried to relax. An hour later she was still awake. Exhausted, but awake.

“Blast.”

According to the clock it was almost five in the afternoon. Nick had fallen off the roof less than eight hours before…it seemed like forever ago. Her life had changed a lot in those hours. Now she had to act like a dutiful, loving wife. Ick, dutiful. Except it wasn’t the dutiful part that bothered her the most.

GeeZee stretched luxuriously and bumped her with his forehead. She sighed. “You’ so big. You can’t sleep on the bed when Nick gets here. There won’t be enough room.”

For a full twenty seconds Emily froze, her words echoing in her ears. There won’t be enough room. She gulped and scrambled inelegantly off the couch.

“Arggh! I can’t believe I said that. Nick and I won’t be sleeping together. He doesn’t have his memory and he’s always been oversexed, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to fall into line like all his other women. No way. Not me. I’ll do laundry and meals, but the horizontal mambo—or whatever those bachelors call it—is out. Marriage or not.”

GeeZee stared at her without blinking, as though he thought a strange spirit had come and taken the place of his normally sensible human.

Emily stomped back and forth across the living room, gesturing wildly. “I’m going to make it clear to Nick. He’ll be grateful when he finally remembers. He doesn’t actually want to make love to me. It’s that old ‘glad I’m alive’ survival response. Primitive instinct. That’s all. It has nothing to do with me whatsoever.”

Having clearly decided this was the case, she looked at herself in the mirror above the fireplace and burst into tears again. “I’m fat. I’m pregnant with his baby and he doesn’t really want me because I’m fat.”

It took her ten minutes of crying, twenty minutes in the shower, and a whole lot of self-lecturing before she could even begin to think straight. And then she still had to get dressed for evening visiting hours at the hospital.

Emily toweled her wet hair vigorously. “Big deal,” she mumbled. “I’m fat because I’m pregnant. That’s a great reason to be fat. I’ll just wear a maternity dress so it’s really obvious I’m having a baby.”

Still dissatisfied, she looked at her reflection again. Wonderful. Nick was going to know she’d gone home and bawled her head off. But it was just those pesky hormones, finally showing up after over four and a half months of pregnancy.

Well…why not? She’d always been a late bloomer, why should her pregnancy be any different?

Clean, properly clothed, with her emotions firmly under control, Emily drove back to the hospital. Paige Wescott met her in the hallway, and she looked at the physician hopefully.

“He still doesn’t have his memory,” Paige warned.

“This is crazy. Somebody will slip and tell him the truth,” Emily declared. “We should tell him first”

“Oh? Who’s going to tell him? Just how many people know you had artificial insemination? Or that Nick isn’t something special in your life? Or that you don’t have a regular marriage?”

Emily blinked. “He must have told his friends.”

Paige clucked. “Nick is a man. I doubt he told anyone the details of your baby’s conception, especially his friends. Since it’s clear he’s the father, I suspect he’s letting everyone believe the obvious. What do you think?”

A vivid image of Nick’s embarrassed face rose before Emily’s eyes. He was a nice guy—with Neanderthal tendencies. Positively primeval. He’d no more discuss the intimate details of their trip to the gynecologist’s office, than he’d rob a bank.

But even more than that, Emily knew she hadn’t been entirely…well, candid herself. Crockett, Washington, was a small town, with its full share of affectionately wagging tongues. While she hadn’t exactly lied to anyone, she hadn’t really explained about the baby. Or Nick. She’d even taken his last name since she never planned to remarry and because it would be easier for their child.

“Well?” Paige prodded.

“All right,” she agreed reluctantly. “Except I can’t keep the pretense up forever. I’m no good at it. I feel so guilty about yelling at him and pushing him away. What if he never gets his memory back because of me? And he’s just going to die if he remembers. He’ll wake up and say ‘yuck, I kissed Emily. I knew her when she was a skinny eight-year-old with bubble gum in her braces.’”

Paige shook her head. “Hormones,” she complained. “Look, I’m not an expert on amnesia, but I do know Nick. And so do you. His personality is so close to the surface his memory block is transparent.”

“What has that got to do with anything?”

“That means,” the doctor said patiently, “my instincts say you should treat him like you always would— argue, tease, whatever…except you don’t explain about your marriage. He latched on to the idea of being married like a drowning victim clutching a life preserver. Under the circumstances, I can’t say I blame him. Don’t worry, he’ll remember soon enough.”

“When is that going to happen?”

“It shouldn’t be long. I suspect this is a case of selective amnesia. His injuries were minor, so the memory block must be caused by some emotional conflict.”

Emily blinked again. Nick Carleton emotionally conflicted? Interesting. Not overly helpful, but interesting.

“You’ the only anchor he’s got right now,” Paige said seriously. “You’ve been friends since childhood. I doubt there’s anyone as close to him. The treatment in these cases is fairly simple—get him into familiar surroundings, remind him of his life, and his memory should return. From what you’ve said, he spends more time at your house than he ever does at that apartment in the city.”

“But he thinks we’…we’ really involved. I mean, uh, Nick has never kissed me like that before,” Emily said, flustered.

“From what I saw, it’s about time he did.” With that parting shot Paige patted her arm and headed toward the nurse’s station.

“God save me from matchmakers,” Emily muttered. She pushed open the door of Nick’s room with a nervous smile, smoothing the light cotton skirt of her dress.

Nick rose from his chair, relieved to see Emily instead of another doctor or lab technician, who would just be annoyed because he’d gotten out of bed. Although… he’d be happy to see her no matter what. “Hi, Angel. I wasn’t sure if you’d come back tonight”

“Of course I’d come back.” She took a few steps into the room. “How’s your head?”

“Empty,” he said flatly. “It’s like there’s this enormous wall in my mind and I can’t see over it.”

“I’m sorry.”

He winced. Great, he had to act like a bear with a sore paw. This was his wife, not a stranger. He was lucky to have Emily, it would have been far worse waking up without anybody to care about him. Which reminded him…

“Angel, what about my family? If you haven’t called them yet, maybe you should wait. I’m sure I’ll get my memory back soon, so there’s no need to upset them, too.”

A look of genuine dismay flashed into her eyes, and he leaned forward abruptly.

Yikes. His abused head didn’t appreciate the move ment, but it seemed more important to understand why Emily might be upset. Even worse…he could tell she’d been crying. “Angel? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Except…you don’t have a family.” Her voice shook and she didn’t quite meet his gaze.

“Wrong,” he said quietly. “I have you and the baby.”

Instinctively Emily’s hand went to her stomach. He went to her, grateful a supposed old friend from the fire department had sent a pair of pajamas for him to wear. She jumped a little when he put an arm about her waist and led her to the bed.

“Is there something I should know?” he asked, sitting her down beside him. “It can’t be too terrible—you said we practically grew up together.”

“We did.”

Emily fidgeted with the fabric of her sundress. It was pretty and feminine, her smooth shoulders rising above the fitted bodice. Her pregnancy was concealed by the graceful folds of the skirt, but he would have preferred seeing the evidence of their baby. It made him feel alive and potent, very much a man.

He captured her fingers, pressing both their hands against her abdomen. “So?”

“We grew up here in Crockett,” she murmured, her head still bowed. “Your mother and father are dead— you were raised in a foster home next door to us.”

“Who is us?”

“My parents and brothers and sisters.” She cast him a look from the corner of her eye. “You’ great friends with my oldest brother. You practically lived at our place.”

“What about my foster parents, are we close? Do I see them ever?” When Emily didn’t answer right away he kissed the arched curve of her neck. “Don’t protect me, Angel. I have to know.”

“They weren’t unkind,” Emily whispered. “They kept you warm and fed and dry.”

And that’s all. Nick didn’t need her to finish the story for him, he’d already guessed. Whatever affection he’d received as a child must have been from Emily and her own family. No wonder he’d fallen in love with her.

“We’ve never really discussed it,” Emily said, finally lifting her head. “You don’t like to talk about things like that.”

You don’t like to talk about things like that…. Terrific. Now he had another item to add to the growing list of questions about himself. But surely he confided in Emily. She was his wife, and she was also the kind of woman who’d want a close relationship with her husband. Besides, marriage meant partnership, didn’t it?

The sudden intake of her breath grabbed his attention. “What? Is something wrong?”

“Did you feel that?” she asked excitedly. “The baby moved.” She squirmed until she could clasp both her hands over his, holding him to the firm swell of her belly. “It’s the first time I’ve felt anything.”

Awed, Nick realized there was a flutter of movement beneath his palm. A faint, compelling reminder of growing life.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Emily asked, tears welling in her blue eyes.

Uh-oh. Uncertain about the best thing to do, he cuddled her close. He didn’t know the cause—the accident, fear or just plain happiness over their baby. He doubted she cried very often. “It’s all right,” he soothed.

“Drat. I thought I was over this.” She sniffed and gulped. “It’s just hormones. They all attacked at once. I was doing fine until today.”

“I see.”

“I don’t cry, not ever,” she said, her stubborn chin raised high.

“I know.” Nick wiped the damp streaks from her cheeks, and she gave him a wobbly smile. God, she was so desirable. Without even thinking he lifted her face and kissed her.

It was even better than the first time. She was soft and fragrant, still trembling with emotion and excitement. After a long moment she moaned and held him in return. He could easily have forgotten they were in a hospital, but for the emphatic sound of someone clearing their throat.

“Nick…Emily?”

He almost swore, recalling just in time that Emily didn’t like that kind of language around their baby. She must believe in that “influence from the womb” theory of psychology. Nick felt an instant of supreme, absolute frustration—how could he remember a psychology theory and remember nothing tangible about his own wife?

“You have lousy timing, Doc. Again,” he growled. Regretfully, he brushed a last kiss across Emily’s lips before releasing her. “How do I break out of this prison, anyhow?”

Paige Wescott shrugged, her smile growing wider as she watched a flustered Emily straighten her clothing. “A specialist is coming from Seattle to check you over, but you’ll probably be released tomorrow or the next day.”

“How about a temporary release?” he suggested, smoothing his hand over Emily’s shoulder, covered only by a one-inch strap. “You release me tonight, and I’ll come back in the morning. I promise.”

Paige seemed to be having trouble controlling her expression, and Emily glared at her. “I…uh…that’s not such a good idea. You haven’t been cleared for extracurricular activities.”

“Nick, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” Emily said. “I don’t think—”

“Wait a minute.” Frowning, Nick ran his thumb over her ring finger—her bare ring finger. “Where’s your wedding ring?”

“Um…at home. I took it off because I was baking cookies.” Emily wanted to die. The truth was, there wasn’t any wedding ring. Nick had wanted to buy one, but she hadn’t let him because it had seemed silly under the circumstances.

“You took it off?”

Emily looked at him carefully, yet she couldn’t be sure if it was reproach or uncertainty in his face. She decided a direct attack was called for, if only to distract him. “Yes. But you don’t wear your ring, either.”

Nick glanced down at his own hand, still frowning. He clenched his fingers into a brief, tight fist. “I’ll have to change that. How long have we been married?”

Emily’s heart speeded up. She knew the answers to his questions, it just seemed so strange to hear Nick asking such things. In some ways he knew her better than anyone else. “A little over five months.”

Five months? Nick whistled to himself, rather pleased with the knowledge. “We sure didn’t waste any time. You must have gotten pregnant right away.”

“Yes, it’s August 21 now,” Dr. Wescott said deliberately. “The baby is due December 30th.”

Nick groaned. “I don’t need to be told the date…again.” He turned to his wife and shrugged. “They keep repeating the date and what town I live in— all kinds of stuff. I think the doc pulled out an old psych textbook and is experimenting on me.”

He gently stroked Emily’s back and rubbed her neck.

“You’ lucky,” Paige retorted. “A hundred years ago we would have just hit you over the head again.” She looked at Emily. “I forgot to tell you to come by my office before you leave. You’ under a lot of stress—I want you to take some extra vitamins for a few days.”

Nick shook his head after the doctor walked out. It hadn’t taken him long to get tired of hospital life. Not that he had much ability to make comparisons in view of his faulty memory.

“Nick…we have to talk,” Emily said. Before he could stop her she slid out of his reach and into a nearby chair.

“Okay. What about?”

Emily pursed her lips, trying to decide the best way to tell Nick that they’d be sleeping separately, no matter when he got home.

“I don’t think we should be intimate. Not right away,” she said quickly. “It would be best…for both of us. Don’t you think?” She cringed at the last question. Giving Nick an option wasn’t what she’d had in mind.

“Anyway,” she continued. “I’m in a awkward stage right now with the baby. Being together…” A wild heat flooded Emily’s face and she faltered. “It’s difficult… and my stomach gets upset so easily. And…and with everything that’s happened, it would be better to take things slowly. You know, get settled into a routine.”

He leaned back on one arm, his face expressionless.

“Nick?”

“Okay. We’ll take things one day at a time,” he agreed calmly—a lot more calmly than she’d really expected. “This has been as tough for you as it is for me. Tougher probably.” Then he smiled, a slow, sexy, hot smile. A smile that infuriated her all the more because it said he was just humoring his overly emotional, pregnant wife. “Don’t worry, it’ll be all right when we get home, Angel.”

I’m not your angel, and I’m trying to save you from major embarrassment, she shouted silently. But her protest did nothing to stop the flow of sensual heat sliding through her veins.

I can’t believe this. I’ve known Nick for more than twenty-five years. I can’t be feeling this way. For years I’ve teased him about his little black book and all those women parading through his life. He was even voted “most likely to escape the ball and chain” by his high school senior class.

Boy, she thought darkly, he’d thought that was funny.

“Think about it,” Nick continued. “You’ just uneasy because I can’t remember us being married. I bet you feel it’s like I’m being unfaithful, even though it’s my own wife I want to make love to.”

Her jaw sagged. That’s it! Time to follow Paige’s advice. Act normally. She’d never let Nick get away with a statement like that if he was himself.

She opened her mouth, “I think they call that kind of idiocy psycho-babble. Honey.”

Okay, Nick decided, he was wrong. That wasn’t the reason Emily wanted to keep him at arm’s length. But he was tired of trying to understand every stray glance, every uncomfortable pause, every peculiar comment people made around him. It was altogether likely they had a wonderful marriage, with no real problems. He had to believe that. Hell, he needed to believe that.

Maybe he’d been a jerk and teased her about getting bigger because of the baby—she’d already hinted that he had a dubious sense of humor. And there was the issue of trust. He didn’t remember their relationship, so she didn’t know how he’d act. It was like asking her to be intimate with a virtual stranger.

“And by the way—” Emily crossed her arms “—I really hate it when you’ condescending. So cut it out.”

Phew. Emily was wonderfully sweet and spicy, but the spicy part was obviously in control tonight. No wonder. He suspected she felt vulnerable and worried and was striking out in self-defense.

“Think of this as the ideal opportunity to expose my faults and correct them,” he suggested.

Emily wanted to throw something at him. Blast. Yet it really wasn’t Nick who was the problem. It was her. She could excuse his behavior because he didn’t remember their friendship. But she didn’t have any excuse for herself. She’d wanted him to kiss her. She’d wanted him to want the baby…

All at once Emily felt the blood drain from her face. Of course. No matter how much she told Nick the baby was hers, that he didn’t need to feel responsible…she had hoped he would share this incredible thing with her.

“I…I have to go see Paige,” she stuttered, getting to her feet and backing toward the door.

Nick stiffened. “What’s wrong?”

“Wrong? N-nothing.” She rubbed her throat with the back of her hand. “It’s okay. It’s just those hormones, you know?”

“Wait.” Nick caught her at the door. “I’m sorry for teasing. I’d give anything to make this easier on you. You know that, don’t you?”

Emily’s chest rose and fell with shaky breaths. His eyes were so sincere, so filled with loving and latent passion she wanted to melt like warm honey. Only she couldn’t let herself want him. Their friendship was already in jeopardy. When he remembered…could they ever put the pieces back together again?

She escaped as quickly as possible. And because she was already feeling illogical and emotional, she stormed into Paige’s office with all the temperamental energy her battered emotions would allow.

“Thanks a lot,” she snapped.

Paige leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “I didn’t give him amnesia.”

“You told me to act like his wife.”

“You are his wife.”

“Legally.”

“Well, legally you signed the admission papers to the hospital. You authorized treatment. You told 911 your husband fell off the roof. You established yourself as the man’s wife in just about every way a woman can.” Her friend’s voice was relentless, refusing to let her deny anything.

Swallowing, Emily leaned against the bookshelf filled with medical references, needing the solid support her world had lost. “What can I do? How do I get out of this?”

Paige’s expression softened with sympathy and understanding—and a little mischief. “I don’t know. But I’ve seen how attentive he can be. Are you sure you want the old Nick back?”

Chapter Three

Are you sure you want the old Nick back?

Muttering beneath her breath, Emily stopped at the door of Nick’s apartment and searched her purse for the key. Trust Paige to raise doubts where none should exist. And the rest of their conversation hadn’t helped, either.

There’s never been anything between us except friendship. I don’t want to lose that.

Even for something better?

Better?

As in love? Emily shook her head, remembering Paige’s earnest question. What a joke. After her first shot at romantic marriage, she knew friendship was the preferable choice.

Nick was always there when she needed him—he’d even come back from a bridge-building project in South America when she’d called and asked if he knew anyone who could break Kevin’s kneecaps. Of course, she hadn’t really been serious about the kneecaps, but he’d come back, anyway, to make sure she stayed out of jail…and that she filed for divorce.

Though when Nick had learned everything, he’d blown a gasket and almost ended up with his own assault charge. Emily shivered as she remember the cold rage in his eyes and the way he’d stood between her and Kevin on the courthouse steps…Kevin and his smarmy, “Sorry ‘bout things, babe, can’t we try again?”

Try again? He hadn’t tried in the first place, he’d just wanted her to come back to the advertising firm where they’d both worked and to keep giving him her ideas.

“Hello, gorgeous,” a man’s voice said from behind her. “I think Nick’s out of town, but I’m available.”

Another smarmy type. Yuck.

“I’m not.” She found the key and jammed it into the lock before turning so that her full profile was visible. The slick yuppie’s eyes widened as he observed her tummy. He stuttered an apology and speedily backed into his own apartment.

“Good,” Emily muttered. She swung the door open and wrinkled her nose. She always expected Nick’s place to smell like Seattle—a kind of piney, salty fragrance, mixed with the inevitable scent of a city. But it didn’t It just smelled dead. Probably because he was out of town so much of the time.

She preferred Crockett, which clung to the western edge of Puget Sound like a barnacle in the midst of a sprawling sea of tide pools. No one ever paid much attention to Crockett, which was fine, because Crockett didn’t care. Who needed rising real estate costs, minimalls and factory outlet stores? You could get all that in Seattle, which was only a short drive and ferry ride away.

The specialist had arrived early that morning, clucked and examined Nick to the absolute limit of his annoyance. The doctor had decided there wasn’t anything organically wrong causing the memory block, concurring with the selective amnesia theory. But he fancied things up by calling it “dissociative amnesia.” And, without necessarily agreeing with Paige Wescott’s treatment, he’d said they would have to continue letting Nick believe he had a typical marriage for the time being. Which didn’t surprise Emily, since the good doctor obviously had some trouble believing the truth himself.

Apparently amnesia was unpredictable and every case was different. Nobody completely agreed on how to treat the condition, but everybody was fascinated by it.

“Blast,” she muttered as she began gathering Nick’s belongings.

Clothes for Nick weren’t a big problem. He subscribed to a style best described as “casual” and “more casual.” She stuffed a bunch of jeans, shirts and underwear into a duffel bag. Those—with the clothing he always kept in Crockett—would be plenty.

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