The Sheriff’s Amnesiac Bride
Linda Conrad

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

About the Author

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

Copyright

Linda Conrad was inspired by her mother, who gave her a deep love of storytelling. “Mum told me I was the best liar she ever knew. That’s saying something for a woman with an Irish storyteller’s background,” Linda says. Winner of many awards, including the Romantic Times BOOKreviews Reviewers’ Choice and a Maggie, Linda has often appeared on the Waldenbooks and BookScan bestseller lists. Her favourite pastime is finding true passion in life. Linda, her husband and KiKi, the dog, work, play, live and love in the sunshine of the Florida Keys. Visit Linda’s website at www.LindaConrad.com.

Chapter 1

Uh-oh. Big trouble.

“Shut up, lady.” One of the two men in the front seat swung his arm over the seat back and smacked her across the cheek. “You’re in no spot to argue. You say you can’t remember? Well, that ain’t my problem.”

The driver didn’t turn around, but muttered, “When we get back, the boss’ll make you talk. And he won’t be as nice as we are. You took something that didn’t belong to you, and that’s a no-no.”

“But…but I really can’t remember.” She rubbed at her stinging cheek. “I don’t even know who I am.” Tears welled up and she fought the panic that was quickly crawling up her spine. She didn’t dare cry. Hardly dared to breathe.

Caught in an internal struggle for clarity, she’d been trying to bring up memories from her past. She was desperate to remember anything at all. Even her own name escaped her, and it had been this way for what seemed like hours.

Where there should’ve been something, there was a huge void. Darkness. A little pain. But nothing even vaguely familiar.

She didn’t have a clue as to why these men had forced her into the backseat of this speeding car. Or where on earth they were heading. Everything out the window seemed as alien as everything in her mind. She didn’t know what she was doing here. Or who these horrible men were who kept insisting she tell them where “it” was.

The only thing she did know was that these two goons were carrying guns. Big ones. They’d waved them at her when she tried to tell them she couldn’t remember.

Oh, God, help her. She was going to die if something didn’t give soon.

Putting her hands together, she silently prayed for a break. Some way of escaping this car and these two men.

As if God had answered her prayer directly, a church spire appeared out the front windshield. The car slowed.

“What the hell is all this traffic about?” The driver sounded irritated as he slammed his foot on the brake. “It ain’t Sunday, damn it. Get out of our way, you idiots!”

Oh please, let me find a way out, she silently begged. Let this be the time. Let this be a place where I can find sanctuary and someone who will save a desperate woman with no memory.

Then, quietly, an answer came to her from out of the emptiness in her mind. The Lord helps those who help themselves.

Sheriff Jericho Yates glanced up toward the Esperanza Community Church steps looming directly ahead and slowed his pace. He wasn’t chickening out of his own wedding, but there was truly no sense in getting there before the bride-to-be would be ready to start.

“You’re sure you want to go through with this, bro?” Fisher, his older brother and the best man, slowed his steps too.

With a serious face but eyes that always seemed to be laughing behind his sunglasses, Fisher Yates, U.S. Army captain home on leave, rarely showed any emotion. But at the moment, it was Fisher who looked panic-stricken by the thought of this wedding.

“Hell, yes, I’m going through with it,” Jericho muttered as an answer. “I gave Macy my word. But I don’t want to piss her off by showing up too soon. We’ve been best friends ever since I can remember, and I couldn’t hurt her feelings by embarrassing her like that.”

“Well, I remember when there were three of you best friends—back in the day. You and Macy and Tim Ward. I thought the whole idea of two guys and a gal hanging out and being so close was a little weird at the time. And sure enough, it was Macy and Tim that eventually got hitched. So what were you all those years? The dorky third wheel?”

Jericho straightened his shoulders under the weight of his rented tux and rammed his hands into his pockets. He would not let Fisher get to him today. His slightly shorter big brother, who was only just now back from his third tour of duty in the Middle East, could be a pain in the ass. But Jericho felt he needed to make allowances for Fisher—for possible psychological problems. Or whatever.

He opened his mouth to remind Fisher that the three of them, he and Tim and Fisher, too, had all been half in love with Macy in high school. But then, Jericho thought better of jamming the truth in his brother’s face right now. Tim had been the one to win the prize. Jericho also remembered that Fisher had taken off in a hurry to join the army after Macy picked Tim to marry—and his brother had never looked back once.

“No,” Jericho finally answered, forcing a grin. “I was the best friend and glad about my buddies hooking up and being happy together. I was also the friend who stood by Macy when Tim got sick and died six years ago. And today, I’m the friend who’s going to marry her and give Tim’s teenage son a new father.”

“Yeah, you are. And right friendly of you, too, bro. But as you said earlier, you and Macy aren’t in love. What’s the real deal? I’m not buying this friendly daddy-stand-in story.”

Jericho wasn’t sure he could explain it to someone like Fisher, a guy who’d never had anybody depending on him—except, of course, for the men in his squad. Well, okay, his brother probably would understand loyalty and honor, but not when it came to women or kids or best friends. Fisher had never let any of those things into his life.

“The real story is that I’m not in love with Macy….”

“You said that already.”

“But…I do love her and want the best for her. And that kid of hers and Tim’s already seems like family to me. I’m his godfather, and I think I can make a bigger difference to his life as his stepfather. I mean to try.”

T.J. was the foremost reason Jericho had been so determined to go through with this wedding when Macy had brought up the subject. As kids, Fisher and he had done without a mother after theirs had abandoned them. But they’d had the firm hand of a father to raise them right. As a tribute to his dad, Buck Yates, still by far the best father in the world, Jericho would bring T.J. into the family and do for him what Buck had done for his two sons. Give T.J. the greatest start possible.

“Act like a best man, why don’t you, and just shut up about love and real stories.” He poked Fisher lightly on his dress-uniformed arm. “We need to waste a few more minutes out here, bro. If you’ve gotta keep yakking at me, tell me what your plans are for after your leave is over.”

Just inside the Community Church, waiting behind closed doors in the vestibule with her maid of honor, Macy Ward fidgeted with her dress. “What do you think everyone in town will have to say about me wearing offwhite? Maybe I should’ve worn a light blue dress instead.”

The dress was of no consequence, but Macy didn’t want to say what she really had on her mind. Her maid of honor, Jewel Mayfair, was also her boss. And although she really liked Jewel, being too honest in a case like this might not be the best idea. Even though Macy was about to be married, she still needed the job.

So as devastated as she felt by the nasty looks she’d received from Jericho’s brother at the rehearsal last night, and as much as she would love to pour her heart out to another woman as kind as Jewel, she would instead keep her mouth firmly shut on the subject of Fisher Yates. Anyway, he was about to become her brother-in-law. So the two of them would just have to find a way of getting along.

But Macy felt nervous and jittery about more than just an irritating old boyfriend in uniform. She was dwelling on something much more important. Her son T.J. had been giving her fits over this upcoming marriage. He’d said he didn’t want anyone to take his father’s place. Though her boy liked Jericho well enough, and eventually Macy felt sure he would come to love and respect the man as much as the rest of the town.

What was not to love? Jericho Yates was the best man she knew. He was kind, loyal and so honest it almost hurt her heart. His honesty had recently made her feel guilty because she had not been absolutely honest with him or anyone else in such a long time.

“What’s wrong, Macy? You don’t look happy. You should be ecstatic. Today’s your wedding day.”

“I’m okay, Jewel. Honest. It’s just…” She decided to confide in her boss, at least a little. “Jericho and I aren’t in love. Not like a man and woman who are about to be married are supposed to be.”

“No? But then why get married?”

“My son.” Macy plopped down in the nearest chair, disregarding the possible wrinkles to her dress. “T.J. needs a father badly. And Jericho will make such a great dad. I’m the one who convinced our poor county sheriff to take pity on an old friend and do me the honor. I knew he would never tell me no.”

“But now you’re having second thoughts?”

“Second, third and fourth thoughts actually. I’m about to ruin a good man’s life and saddle him with a wife he doesn’t love and a kid who’s a handful.

“I like Jericho,” she added hastily. “A lot. I don’t know if I can do this to him.”

Jewel knelt on the carpet beside Macy’s chair and spoke quietly. “If you ask me, he’ll be getting the best part of the deal. You don’t seem to understand how really beautiful and special you are, and I’m not sure why you don’t get it. You’re a terrific mother and a fine employee. I’m both your boss and your maid of honor, a double threat at the moment. So I’m the one who’s here to remind you of what everyone else already knows. If you decide not to go through with this wedding, it’ll be Jericho’s loss, not yours.”

Macy’s eyes clouded over with unshed tears, but she bit them back. Jewel had become the dearest friend. But when everything was said and over, Macy just could not go through with this sham wedding. At least not today.

“Jewel, will you back me up if I postpone the wedding?”

Jewel put an arm around her shoulders. “Sure, honey. But why don’t you go out and talk to Jericho about it first? Maybe you can catch him on his way in.”

“Come with me?”

“All right. But we’d better hurry. The guests are already arriving. There’s a major traffic jam outside.”

Outside under the cottonwoods and next to the church, standing with his brother Fisher beside him, Jericho had been biding his time. He turned when he heard someone calling his name.

“Sheriff Yates!” The voice was coming from his deputy Adam Rawlins.

Jericho watched as the man he’d hired not long ago hurried toward him. Adam was dressed in his full deputy’s uniform because he’d been on duty today and hadn’t planned on attending the wedding. Rawlins was a good man who had come to them with terrific references from a deputy job in Wyoming. And Jericho was mighty glad to have found him.

“Sheriff, we’ve got ourselves a traffic tie-up out here on the highway. Someone called it in and I thought I’d better come over and direct traffic.”

Geez. The entire county must be planning on attending his wedding. Who all had Macy invited? He’d left the plans up to her because he’d been so busy for the last few weeks. What with that case of identity theft a while back and then an actual dead body and a murder investigation out on Clay Colton’s ranch that had just been put to bed, the sheriff’s business was booming lately.

“All right, deputy,” he told Rawlins. “Thanks for the quick thinking. I’ll be out of pocket here for a few more hours and then I can help you out.”

The deputy nodded and raced back toward the highway, apparently all ready to set out traffic cones and organize traffic lanes.

“Aren’t you and Macy going on a honeymoon, bro?” Fisher laid a hand on Jericho’s arm, reminding him of his presence and of the upcoming nuptials.

Jericho winced and shook his head. “Not funny, bubba. You already know the answer to that. Besides, Macy and I are planning on spending some quality time with T.J. over the next few days. I thought I might take him hunting like Dad used to do for us. I hear the wild boar hunting has been good up on the north Gage pasture.”

“Yeah, wild boar hunting the day after your wedding does sound romantic.” Fisher scowled and rolled his eyes.

Jericho shook off his brother’s sarcastic comments. He didn’t care what Fisher or anybody thought of this marriage to his best friend. Macy was a great lady and a great friend, and Jericho vowed to do right by her and her son—regardless of anyone else’s opinion.

Still twisting her hands in the backseat and waiting for a good opportunity, the woman with no past and a questionable future bit her lip and stared out the car’s window. There was so much traffic here. Surely one of the people in these other cars would see her predicament and come to her aid.

“Son of a bitch, the traffic’s even worse now.” The car wound down to a crawl as the driver turned around again to speak to her. “Don’t get smart, lady. You call out or make any noises like you need help and we’ll shoot you. I don’t give a rat’s damn if that special item the boss wants is ever found or not. The choice between you giving us the answer and you never being able to answer again ain’t nothing to me.

“You got that?”

She nodded, but the movement seared a line of fiery pain down her temple. Another couple of pains like that and she might rather be dead anyway.

“Terrific,” the goon sitting shotgun said. “Just look at that, will ya? A local smoky. Out in the middle of the highway, directing traffic. Crap.

“What’s going to happen, Arnie?” The man in the passenger seat was beginning to sweat.

“We’re not doing anything wrong,” Arnie answered with a growl. “We’re regular citizens just driving down the road. Nothing to worry about. Stash your gun under the seat until we pass him by.”

The driver bent and buried his own gun, then twisted back to her. “Remember, sis. No funny stuff. I swear, if you call out, you’re dead.”

Shaking badly, she wondered if her voice would work anyway. But right then, the miracle she’d prayed for happened. Their car came to a complete stop, almost directly in front of the church.

She bit her lip and tried to guess whether it would be closer for her to head for the sanctuary of the church or to run for the policeman in the street ten car-lengths away. The truck in front of them inched ahead and she decided to break for the church—it was her only real choice.

For a split second she stopped to wonder if she might be the kind of person who made rash decisions and who would rather fight back than die with a whimper. But then, whether out of fear or out of instinct, she knew it didn’t matter.

If she were ever going to find out what had happened to her in the first place, she would have to go. Now.

Jericho heard a popping sound behind his back. Spinning around, he scanned the area trying to make out where the noise had originated.

“Was that a gunshot?” Fisher asked, as he too checked out the scene in front of the church.

In his peripheral vision, Jericho spotted a woman he’d never seen before. A woman seemingly out of place for a wedding, dressed in fancy jeans and red halter top. And she was racing at top speed across the grass straight in his direction. What the hell?

Another pop and the woman fell on the concrete walkway. From off to his left, someone screamed. Then tires squealed from somwhere down the long line of cars. When he glanced toward the sound, he saw a sedan with two men sitting in front as they roared out of the line and headed down the narrow shoulder of the highway.

Chaos reigned. Car horns honked. People shouted. And the sedan spewed out a huge dust plume as it bumped down the embankment.

Jericho took off at a run. He dropped to one knee beside the woman, checked her pulse and discovered she was breathing but unconscious and bleeding.

“Is she alive?” Deputy Rawlins asked, almost out of breath as he came running up. “I got their plates, Sheriff. But I didn’t dare get off a shot with all the civilians in the way. You want me to pursue?”

Son of a gun. It would figure that he didn’t have his weapon just when an emergency arose.

“Stay with the woman,” Jericho ordered. “You and Fisher get her to Doc O’Neal’s as fast as you can. My rifle’s in the truck, and…” He looked over his shoulder toward the church door. “Tell Macy…”

Right then Macy appeared at the top of the church steps and peered down at him. He was about to yell for her to get back out of the line of fire. But within a second, he could see her quickly taking in the whole situation.

“You go do what you need to, Jericho,” she called out to him. “Don’t worry about us. Just take care of yourself. The wedding’s off for today.”

Chapter 2

It was one of those spectacular Texas sunsets, but Jericho had been too preoccupied to enjoy it. Now that the sun had completely dropped below the horizon, he retraced his steps to the Community Church and the prearranged meeting with his deputy.

“Sorry you didn’t catch them, Sheriff. I searched the grounds like you told me when you called in, and I came up with just this one bullet casing. From a 9mm. Pretty common, I’m afraid.”

Jericho felt all of his thirty-five years weighing heavily on his shoulders tonight. “Yeah, but just in case there might be anything special, send it off to the lab in San Antonio. Okay?” It wasn’t often that a trained lawman witnessed an attempted murder and couldn’t either catch—or identify—the perpetrators. So why him? And why on his wedding day?

The deputy nodded and put the plastic evidence bag back into his jacket pocket.

“What happened with the victim?” Jericho asked wearily. “Is she still alive?”

“Last time I checked she was sitting up and able to talk, still over at Doc O’Neal’s clinic. But she wasn’t giving many answers.”

That figured. Why make his job any easier?

“Did you run the plates?”

Deputy Rawlins frowned. “Stolen. Not the car. The plates were stolen in San Marcos day before yesterday.”

Jericho’s frustration grew but he kept it hidden as he rolled up the sleeves of his starched, white dress shirt. “When I checked in the last time, everyone else was okay. That still true?” He was concerned about Macy. How had she handled postponing the wedding?

“I never saw an assemblage of people disband so quickly or so quietly.” The deputy removed his hat and fiddled with the brim. “Mrs. Ward was amazing. Once we were sure the immediate danger was over, she told everyone to go home and that she’d notify them when there would be another try at the wedding. Had everybody chuckling pretty good…but they went.”

“I’d better call her.”

“Yes, sir.” With a tired sigh, Deputy Rawlins flipped his hat back onto his head. “Doc O’Neal needs someone to take charge of the woman victim. Says her condition is not serious enough to send her over to the Uvalde hospital, but she isn’t capable of being on her own, either. You want me to handle it, Sheriff?”

“No, Adam. You’ve had a long day and you’ve done a fine job. You go on home. I’ll clean up the odds and ends.”

The deputy nodded and turned, but then hesitated and turned back. “Sorry about the wedding, boss. Don’t you think that whole shooting scene was really odd for broad daylight? What do you suppose it was all about?”

When Jericho just raised his eyebrows and didn’t answer, Adam continued, “Wait ’til you try to question that woman victim. She’s a little odd, too. Wouldn’t say much to me. But she’s sure something terrific to look at.”

“Thanks. Good-night now.” Jericho would talk to the victim, and he would take charge of her and this case. But he had a mighty tough phone call to Macy to make first.

As Jericho stepped into Dr. O’Neal’s clinic, his shoulders felt a thousand times lighter. Macy had been wonderful on the phone—as usual. She’d tried hard to make him feel better about ruining the wedding. She had even told him that she’d been considering postponing anyway. When he asked her why such a thing would occur to her, she said they would talk tomorrow.

In a way, he was curious and wondered if he’d done something inadvertent, other than being the sheriff, to make her mad. But in another way, his whole body felt weightless. He had meant to marry Macy today. Still did, in fact. He’d given his word. Besides that, recently he’d come to the conclusion that it was important for him to become a family man in order to honor his father.

But before Macy had suggested it a couple of weeks ago, he had never planned on marrying anyone. He’d begun thinking of himself as a lone wolf. The idea of turning into the old bachelor sheriff had somehow taken root. He’d had visions of ending up like his father and having a girlfriend or two stashed away—ladies he could visit on Saturday nights. But in general the single life suited him just fine.

Now that Macy was hedging, Jericho felt ashamed to admit that her change of heart would seem like a reprieve. His only sorrow if they didn’t marry would be T.J. But maybe things around the county would settle down enough now for him to spend more time with the boy despite not being his stepfather.

“Sheriff Yates.” Dr. O’Neal met him just inside the front door. “I’d like to speak to you in private before you see the patient. Let’s sit out here in the empty waiting room.”

Jericho followed the doc. “What’s wrong? Did the bullet do serious internal damage?”

Dr. O’Neal sat down on the flimsy, fake leather couch and removed his glasses. “No. Her gunshot wound is superficial. The bullet went right through the flesh on her left side and completely missed her ribcage. She twisted her ankle when she fell, but it’s not broken or sprained. She also has some old bruising and a few nontreated cuts that appear to be at least twenty-four hours old. All things considered, her physical condition is unofficially ‘beat-up’ but not serious.

“That’s not the worst of it, though,” Doc added thoughtfully.

Jericho leaned against the edge of Doc’s desk. “What are you trying to say?”

“She can’t tell me how she got the bruises or the cuts. In fact, she doesn’t remember a thing before this morning. I’m no expert in head trauma, mind you. But even with the small bump on her head, I don’t believe she’s suffered any major jarring of the brain. Certainly there’s not enough outward damage to suspect a physical blow caused her amnesia.

“There is a condition known as a fugue state or psychogenic amnesia,” he continued. “It’s caused by a traumatic event so frightening to the patient that they flee from reality and hide themselves in another, safer life—one with no memories. I don’t have a lot of training in psychology, but I do remember learning that this kind of state may last for months or years.”

“Amnesia? But it’s just temporary. The memories will eventually come back, right?”

“Hard to say,” Doc hedged as he blew dust from his glasses. “I understand that in some cases snippets of memories will flash through the mind and memories may fade in and out until the full picture emerges. Sometimes…nothing comes back at all.”

Jericho took a breath. He couldn’t imagine how hard that would be. To never be able to bring back the memory of growing up or the memory of his mother’s face. What would that do to…?

He jerked and straightened his shoulders. Whatever would possess him to think such a thing? His mother had been a drunk and had left the family when he was only a kid. Truth be told, he hated her. Why would he care to remember what her face looked like? That was one memory he wouldn’t mind losing for good.

“Let’s go talk to the patient, Doc. What’s her name?”

Dr. O’Neal shrugged. “No clue. She doesn’t remember and your deputy said he couldn’t find any ID in her clothes or at the church scene.”

Now, that was one thing Jericho would hate to forget. The Yates name meant something. There were generations of Yates men who had been lawmen, sportsmen and landowners. It was a name to be proud of and to do right by.

Sheriff Yates. He’d worked hard to get that title. He’d paid his dues as deputy, been appointed when the old sheriff retired, and finally had been elected on his own merit. He anticipated continuing to be a man worthy of everyone’s respect. And it was high time to do his job.

As Jericho walked through Dr. O’Neal’s office door to meet the mystery woman, he didn’t know what he expected to find. But it was definitely not the most gorgeous woman he had ever beheld.

Yet there she sat on one of Doc’s plastic chairs. Miss America, Miss Universe and Venus de Milo all wrapped into one—with a bad haircut and wild, sky-blue eyes. Jericho had to swallow hard in order to find his voice.

“Good evening, ma’am. I’m Sheriff Jericho Yates. How’re you feeling?”

She lightly touched her temple, but continued to stare up at him, those strange electric eyes boring holes straight into his. “The headache and the four stitches in my side are the worst of it. No, I take that back. Not knowing my own name is the worst of it. Did Dr. O’Neal tell you that I can’t remember anything? He says I have amnesia.”

“Yes, ma’am. I understand. But we need to talk about what you do remember. Can you start with your first clear memory and tell me everything that happened up until the time when you were shot?”

“Um…I guess I could do that.” She reached up and rubbed the back of her neck. “But can you sit down first? I’m getting stiff just looking up at you. How tall are you anyway?”

Jericho found a chair and dragged it over while Doc moved to sit behind his desk. “Six-three.” They both sat. “There you go, Red. Is that better?”

“Yes, thanks.” Lost and feeling vulnerable, even in the presence of someone as safe as the sheriff, the woman had to take deep breaths in order to calm herself down.

“Did you just call her ‘Red,’ Sheriff?” The doctor was scowling over his desk pad.

The sheriff looked perplexed. “Well, I suppose. We’ve got to call her something. ‘Hey you’ just won’t do and she has all that bright red hair. Seemed to work.”

“Bright red hair? Do I?” She put her hands in her hair. “But that doesn’t feel right.”

“Don’t upset yourself by trying to force the memories of your lost past,” the doctor said soothingly. “Not yet. Give it some time.” He turned back to address the sheriff. “Jericho, I want you to take things slow. Pushing her to remember will only make it worse.

“Oh, and I don’t believe ‘Red’ is the least bit feminine,” the doctor continued. “It doesn’t fit this beautiful young woman and it doesn’t sound respectful to me. Can’t we come up with something else?”

Still with her hands in her hair, she worried that more seemed wrong with it than just the wrong hair color. Though God only knew what she meant by that.

“Okay, Doc,” the sheriff conceded. “How about ‘Rosie?’ That’s in the same color type.”

“Rosie’s okay with me,” she agreed quickly. The name didn’t nauseate her nearly as much as the wrong feeling about her hair.

“Okay, Rosie,” the sheriff said with a deliberate drawl and a tight smile. “You can call me Jericho. Now tell me what you do remember.”

She wasn’t sure she could do this. Every time she thought of how terrifying those men had been, her whole body started trembling. Looking up at Sheriff Jericho for support, she was surprised to find an odd softness in his eyes as he waited for her to speak.

She’d thought he had looked so tough. Scary-tough, with all his hard angles and rough edges, when he’d first walked into Dr. O’Neal’s office. Now, it seemed that at least his eyes held some empathy toward her, and the idea made her relax a little.

“The…um…first thing I remember clearly is two men pushing me around. One was pointing a gun at me while the other kept shaking me by the shoulders, hard. I felt as though I’d just woken up from a deep sleep. But now I’m not sure that was the case.”

“And these two men didn’t look familiar?”

“Not at all.”

“Where was this? What do you remember of your surroundings?”

“After a few minutes, I decided it had to be a cheap motel room. But I…never found out whose.”

“Okay,” the sheriff said as he rubbed a thumb across his neat mustache. “Don’t strain for answers. Let’s just take this nice and easy.”

She must’ve been wearing a frown as she’d tried to bring the images to the front of her mind because that tender look had returned to Jericho’s eyes. “Can you tell me what the men said to you?” he asked gently.

“Oh, yeah. They wanted to know where some special thing was.” At his curious expression, she shrugged her shoulders. “I never found out what the ‘thing’ was they were looking for. But they said I had stolen it and their boss wanted it back.”

“You believe what they were saying was the truth? Like perhaps you had stolen something?”

Yeah, God help her, it kinda did. But with that strange thought, she began shuddering again. A lone tear leaked from the corner of her eye. “I don’t know.”

“Sheriff…” The doctor cautioned him with his tone.

Jericho scowled briefly then nodded. “Sorry, Doc. I won’t push.

“Okay, Rosie, what did the men say or do after you couldn’t give them what they wanted?”

She sniffed once and wiped her hand across her face. “They beat me up a little. You know, like slapping me and punching me in the arms and shoulders. And the whole time they kept demanding that I talk. I was so scared they were going to kill me that what they were doing hardly even hurt.”

The doctor cleared his throat. The sheriff fisted his hands on his knees.

“What did they say then?” Jericho asked in a rough voice.

“Finally, they looked at their watches and said I was going to go with them to see the boss. That he would make me tell where it was. Then they pushed me outside and into the backseat of their car.”

“Did anything outside look familiar?”

Dr. O’Neal huffed and opened his mouth to chastise the sheriff’s choice of words.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry again,” Jericho put in quickly. “What I meant was, what did it look like outside the motel room?”

“I couldn’t see much. But what I did see wasn’t anything special. Like the poor side of lots of small towns, I guess.” Now how would she know that? She couldn’t even come up with her own name and yet she knew what the poor side of town would look like?

The sheriff gave her an odd look. “Do you know where you are now?”

“Your deputy told me. Esperanza, Texas.”

“Does that hold any meaning for you?” Jericho glanced over at the doctor and then held up his hand in self-defense. “Don’t answer that, Rosie, not unless something comes to you. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Jericho was more than a little frustrated. He didn’t want to hurt her by asking the wrong questions. But the only way he could help her was by getting answers. He promised to think longer before he opened his mouth.

“Okay. Let’s get back to the men. Can you describe them?”

“I guess so.”

But while Jericho watched her open her mouth to try, he noted her wincing as another one of those slashing pains must’ve struck her in the head. “Never mind. Give it a rest for tonight. We’ll try it in the morning. In fact, if you’re feeling well enough by then, you can go through mug shots.”

Rosie sighed and her shoulders slumped. She glanced up at him from under long, thick lashes with a look so needful, so vulnerable, that it was all he could do not to sweep her up in his arms and keep her bogeymen at bay. He’d never before acted as some female’s sole link to the world and to safety. He was just a county sheriff. But whatever had frightened her badly enough to erase her memories needed to be dealt with soon. He vowed to be the one to take care of it.

“Jericho,” Doc interrupted his thoughts. “Rosie needs a good night’s sleep. We’ve determined that she doesn’t have a concussion, but we haven’t got any place to make her comfortable here. What can you do for her?”

“Leave this place?” Rosie folded her arms over her very generous chest in a self-protective move that stirred his own protective instincts even further.

There were no motels in Esperanza. The nearest one was a half hour away. It was too late to call anyone in town to find her a place for the night.

“But what if those goons come looking for me again?” Rosie’s voice was shaky and her eyes wild and frightened again. “Will they? Do you think it’s possible?”

Hell. It actually was a possibility that those men might double back and finish what they’d started. Rosie needed to be in protective custody. But where could he be sure she would be safe and comfortable? The deputy’s substation in town had only a small holding cell. That would never do.

“Don’t you worry, ma’am. You’re coming home with me. You’ll be perfectly safe and comfortable there. I’ve got a spare bedroom and it’s all made up.” Had he really just said that? He stood up and stretched his legs.

“Your spare room should be okay, Jericho,” Doc said. “But there’s something I must tell you both first.

“I haven’t said anything to Rosie about this yet,” the doctor continued. “Because I don’t know if it might spark a memory and cause her some pain. But both of you need to know that there should be someone who cares about her and should’ve missed her by now.”

Rosie sat forward in her chair. “What do you mean?”

“While I was examining you, I discovered you’re around two months’ pregnant.” The doc said it carefully, gently, but there was no way to make that news go down easy.

“No.” She put a hand to her belly. “Can’t be. How could I forget something like that?”

The doc went over to put his arm around her shoulders. “It’s possible that you didn’t realize you were pregnant before you lost your memory. Two months isn’t very far along. If you don’t start getting your memories or haven’t found a family by the time you’re feeling a little stronger, come on in and see me for prenatal instructions.

“And in the meantime, watch your diet. No caffeine. No alcohol, and definitely no smoking. My examination tells me you’ve never carried a baby to full term before, but I’m sure you won’t have any trouble. There are just some things you’ll need to know.”

“Yeah,” Rosie said. “Like who I am and who the baby’s father is.” She shot Jericho a rolled-eye smile.

It was such an intimate gesture. As though the two of them already shared some gigantic secret from the rest of the world. In that split second, her smile miracu-lously swept away one of the invisible shackles to his normal restraint.

He could almost hear the snap of an old, half-forgotten anguish relinquishing its hold on him.

With a competent smile, he offered her a helping hand at the elbow. “Let’s go. All of this will look better in the morning.”

She stood and he did something he hadn’t done in so long he could barely remember the last time. As they walked out of the doctor’s office, he pulled her closer and they walked arm in arm together toward the truck.

Chapter 3

The moment Rosie stepped into Jericho’s huge log-cabin home it seemed clear she’d made a mistake. Oh, the place was beautiful, with its handcrafted furnishings, sleek open spaces and heavy-beamed ceilings.

After taking a few steps past the wide front door, she spied a state-of-the-art kitchen, including dark granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances, that appeared prominently just beyond the stone fireplace.

Decorated in tans, browns and natural woods, the place certainly looked comfortable. And since Jericho was sheriff, it should be safe.

But where were the feminine touches? The walls held few decorations, save for a large fish mounted on a brass plaque and a couple of birds, or maybe they were ducks, stuffed and stuck on wooden planks. A bronze statue standing on a hand-hewed coffee table was the only other decoration she saw. Even the kitchen seemed stark and empty. This was definitely a man’s home. A single man.

“Uh,” she began. “Aren’t you married? Where’s your wife?” Why hadn’t she thought to ask that before she agreed to stay here?

“I’m not married.” He walked to the grand, airy kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “You want something to eat or drink? There isn’t much. I was, ah, supposed to be on my honeymoon tonight.”

She relaxed a bit. At least he had a girlfriend. “What happened? What stopped the honeymoon?”

He turned from the open fridge. “There was a shooting right outside the church. The wedding was called off.”

“Ouch.” She winced and slid onto one of the barstools at the counter. “I screwed it up, didn’t I? I’m so sorry.”

Leaving the refrigerator door standing open, Jericho crossed the kitchen and leaned over the counter in her direction. He laid a hand on her shoulder and the electric jolt his warmth caused against her skin both shocked and surprised her.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” he said. “Seems the bride-to-be was about to call the whole thing off. Temporarily, anyway. I’d bet she might even be grateful that you gave her the perfect excuse.” He took his hand away and stared at it, as if he too had felt the sizzle.

With his hand gone from her shoulder, Rosie decided she could almost breathe again. “You don’t sound very upset. Are you heartbroken?”

Turning his back, Jericho cleared his throat and went to the open fridge. “Naw. It was going to be one of those whata-you-call-’ems? Marriages of convenience. Macy Ward has been my best friend since we were kids. I volunteered to marry her and take over being the father to her out-of-control teenage son.”

He glanced around the kitchen and then back into the nearly empty refrigerator as though he had never seen them before. “But I’m not sure where I figured we would make a home together. This place isn’t set up for a wife and kid. I built it with my own hands, me and my dad, and I certainly don’t want to move out of it and go to town.

“I guess I hadn’t really thought the whole thing through well enough.”

Maybe it was because of her jumbled state of mind, but she was having trouble processing everything he’d said. “You mean you two don’t love each other but you were going to get married anyway? I didn’t know things like that really happened.” She shook her head. “Just so you could be a father to her son? Wow.”

What was that she’d been spouting? How would she know anything at all, let alone about marriage? Was she married? She didn’t feel like she was. Damn. The harder she thought, the hazier everything became. She must be more disoriented than she’d thought.

“Yeah, I guess that’s about right.” Jericho shrugged a shoulder. “You want tomato soup? I’ve got a can or two I can heat up and soda crackers to go with it.”

Was this guy for real? “Sure. Soup will be fine.” Maybe the whole thing was some terrible dream she’d been having. Any moment now she would wake up and find herself back to being…

Nope. The best she could do was to remember she’d been running for her life and had fallen at the feet of one deadly gorgeous, single Texas sheriff.

And tonight she would have to adjust herself to a whole new persona. Mother-to-be. Without so much as a smattering of memory of her own mother.

Not to mention, without having the first clue as to who the baby’s father might be.

Hmm. All that might be more than she could handle for one night. Maybe she’d be better off doing what the doctor said and just go with the flow. At least for tonight.

So far she’d learned this Sheriff Jericho guy might be too good to be true. Marrying the best friend he didn’t love in order to give her son a father? Good for him. And by the same token, that ought to mean she wouldn’t have to worry about him forcing her to do anything against her will. Mister Knight in Shining Armor must be the ultimate good guy. Who woulda thunk a man like that really existed?

Rosie tried to let her mind go blank as she watched Jericho fumble around in the kitchen. But she couldn’t get the idea of him being unattached out of her head.

As she looked down at her left hand, it made her chuckle to think that she would know about married women wearing wedding rings on the third finger of their left hands but she didn’t know whether or not she was married herself. Her fingers bore no rings at all. But that didn’t tell the whole story. What if she’d taken off her rings? What if they’d been stolen?

Sighing in frustration, she went back to studying the man.

Then wished she hadn’t.

Wide, muscular shoulders flexed as he reached for dishes in the cabinets. His dark blond hair and sexy hazel eyes made him as handsome as any movie star. Her glance moved down along his torso as it narrowed to lean hips. She forced herself to turn away from the sight of his fantastically tight butt. But she didn’t completely lose sight of his long arms and even longer legs. The whole picture was developing into a hero, all lean and formidable. Like the sheriff in a white hat from an old-time movie.

The good guy. The sexy good guy.

He set a bowl of steaming soup in front of her and sat across the counter with his own. “This must be tough on you.”

Heartfelt concern shone from those deep hazel eyes as he gazed intently in her direction. The more she watched them, the darker the irises became. Soon they were steel gray, and suddenly sensual. Hot.

She quickly took a sip of the soup and nearly burned her tongue. “Uh, yeah. It’s hard not knowing where I came from or who I am. I wish I knew what those men were after.”

Jericho lifted the spoon to his mouth and blew as he studied the beautiful woman across the counter. He was having trouble keeping his mind from wandering. Wandering off to things he would love to do to her, for her, with her.

Her stunning eyes had lost that wild, crazed look, so he’d been studying the rest. The body seemed made for sex. At five-foot-ten or so, she wasn’t quite his height. But she also wasn’t a dainty little thing, one who might break if he didn’t watch his step. Somewhat on the thin side, she looked like a model. But unlike the models he’d seen on magazines, her lean body just made those fantastic breasts seem all the more voluptuous. And those legs. Don’t get him started on those long, shapely legs. Even encased in designer jeans, he could tell how they would look naked—wrapped around his waist and in the heat of passion.

The mere sight of a good-looking woman had never done things like this to his libido in the past. He couldn’t imagine why she was so different. But the why didn’t seem to matter all that much. She just was, and he had to find a way to stop thinking about her like that.

She was pregnant. No doubt she belonged to someone—somewhere.

“Is the soup okay?” he asked, trying to push aside the unwanted thoughts. “Is there anything else I can do for you before I settle you down for the night?”

Ah hell. Just the word night made him long for things he had no business even considering.

“Soup’s fine.” She took another sip and a bite of the crackers. “But I feel so…I don’t know. Like I’m not grounded. Like I’m flying around in midair. It’s probably because I can’t recall my past and my family. And this baby thing…That really threw me.

“Maybe it would help if you told me something about your family,” she went on to suggest. “Would you mind? I think just hearing that someone else can remember and knows who they are will give me hope that someday I’ll get my memories back. Does that seem too nosy?”

He was good at questioning victims and criminals. And he’d forced himself to become a decent politician in order to get elected. But talking about his life to a complete stranger was totally out of his realm. He had a strong instinct to keep his mouth shut, but she looked so vulnerable, so needy.

“There’s not much to tell.” But he guessed he could give her a few basic facts. “I was born and raised right here in Esperanza. My dad is Buck Yates, and he was born right here in town, too. Dad spent years in the service and now he owns the farm-supply store in town. Of course around here, that means he sells mostly guns and tack, some deer blinds and a lot of game feeders.”

Jericho let himself give her one of his polite, running-for-office smiles as he continued. “My older brother, Fisher, is a captain in the U.S. Army, just home on leave from his third tour of duty in the Middle East.” He shrugged and ducked his head, not knowing where to go from here. “That’s about it for the family. Want to hear about my friends?”

“You didn’t mention your mother. Has she passed away?”

If only she had simply died. “Our mother took off when Fisher and I were kids.”

“Took off?”

“Disappeared. Haven’t heard a word from her in nearly thirty years. She might be dead by now for all I know.” Good riddance if she was.

He stood, picked up his empty soup bowl and eyed Rosie’s almost empty one. “You want another bowl of soup? Or anything else?”

Without answering, Rosie glanced up at him and he spotted dark, purplish circles under her eyes. The lady was whooped. His protective instincts kicked right back in again.

“Let’s get you into bed for now. We’ll have a fresh start in the morning. Okay with you?”

“I am tired. Thanks.” She slid off the barstool and he watched her hanging tightly on to the counter as if her legs were about to give out on her.

He dumped the dishes into the sink and went to her side. “Here, take my arm. I won’t let you fall.”

For a moment, it seemed that she would refuse. Jericho saw her try to straighten up and steady herself. But within a split second, she started to slide.

There was no choice. He bent to pick her up in his arms. A lot lighter than he’d imagined, her body hugged his chest as she threw her arms around his neck and hung on.

“I feel ridiculous. I can’t even remember my own name and now I can’t walk under my own steam. It’s a good thing you’re here, Sheriff.”

Yeah, maybe. Or maybe this was going to turn into his worst nightmare.

Jericho carried her down the hall and into the spare room. Setting her down in the corner chair, he pulled back the covers from the double bed.

“This should be comfortable enough.” He had to turn away from the sight of clean, fresh sheets just waiting for bodies to mess them up.

“It looks great,” she told him. “But I wish I had a pair of clean pajamas. These clothes are getting gamy.”

He stood there for a second, picturing her naked again. Finally, making a tremendous effort, he started thinking with his head instead of another part of his anatomy.

“How about I lend you one of my T-shirts? I’ve got one or two older ones that’ve turned soft from washing and I don’t wear them anymore. Would that do?”

She nodded and gave him a weak smile.

When he brought a shirt back into the room and handed it to her, his sex-obsessed brain produced another thought. This one worried him.

“Are you going to need help getting undressed?”

“No, I’m feeling stronger, thanks. I think the food helped.”

“Great. The bathroom is right across the hall. There are towels in the closet and an extra new toothbrush. Use whatever you need.”

“Thanks again, Jericho. I’ll be fine. See you in the morning.”

Glad to know she would be okay for the night, Jericho eased out of her room and headed for his own. He probably wouldn’t fare as well with his own night. The thought of Rosie lying in bed in the room right next to his would keep him tossing and turning.

Sighing, he shrugged off his by-now-filthy dress shirt and tried telling himself it would all be okay. He had a plan. He would just start thinking of her like he would a roommate.

Well, that plan didn’t work out so well. Jericho dragged himself into the shower the next morning and turned the faucets on full cold. Roommate, my foot. When had a roommate ever kept him lying awake for half the night with daydreams of long, silky legs and ripe, sensitive breasts?

Irritated at himself, he swore to do better today. And it would serve him right if he was too tired and miserable all day long to concentrate.

After his shower, he stood before the mirror, preparing to shave. A couple of things were going to have to change today, he silently demanded of his image. He needed to get a line on Rosie’s relatives. Somewhere people must be missing her. The sooner he found them and returned her to her previous life, the better off he would be. Let someone else protect her.

The second thing that needed to change was the way she dressed. She didn’t have a change of clothes, and she needed to cover herself up real soon.

But the thought of how she dressed reminded him of something else. Another chore he must do, first thing. Maybe he could combine the two. Yeah, that should work.

Rosie opened her eyes when a dash of sunlight hit her eyelids and irritated her enough to wake up. She glanced over at the bright sunshine peeping through the wood-slatted miniblinds and wondered what time it was.

Rolling over, it hit her. A gigantic black void. The gaping abyss in her brain suddenly threatened to swallow her whole.

Gasping for air, as though someone had been choking her, and flailing her arms against a sea of nothingness and nausea, Rosie let her mind grab hold of the only thing it could. The one thing she saw clearly. The memory of Jericho Yates.

Immediately her heart rate slowed and warmth replaced the stone-cold numbness she’d felt when she awoke to find nothing familiar. Jericho had made one hell of an anchor last night. He’d tethered her to the earth with quiet concern and a sensual smile.

Fighting to remain in the moment and trying not to think either backward or forward, she sat at the edge of the bed and took stock. First was the physical. Her head wasn’t pounding as it had been last night. The stitches in her side were barely noticeable. She rotated her ankle and found only an echo of the pain she’d experienced.

Okay, so she felt a little achy and sore, but she would live. Well, unless the bad guys came back.

Her second concern—and the real question—remained the same as before: How was she going to get her memories back? The doctor said not to push it. The moment she’d tried to find some thread of memory, panic had set in.

Taking another deep breath, she came to the conclusion that she had no choice. To keep from going stark raving mad, she had better just go along minute by minute. Living hour by hour and feeling her way.

Standing in the kitchen drinking coffee, Jericho heard Rosie opening the spare room door and going into the bathroom. The sudden jolt of anticipation at seeing her again competed with the practiced calm he had almost perfected during the hours since his shower.

But just then someone knocked on the front door. Jericho figured Rosie’s goons wouldn’t have the guts to confront him in broad daylight, and they definitely wouldn’t be knocking when they came to call. So this must be the person he was expecting.

He checked out the window and saw her car. Yes, it was his best friend. He wiped the smile off his face and went to let her in.

“Morning, Macy. Thanks for coming.” He stood aside and allowed her to come in.

When she entered the room, everything felt easy, even somehow more homey. “Good morning, Jericho. I had every intention of talking to you this morning anyway. It’s my pleasure if I can be of some help at the same time.”

As a best friend, Macy Ward couldn’t be beat. As a potential spouse…he would just as soon skip it.

“I wanted to say how sorry I am about the ceremony, Mace. You know I wouldn’t have ducked out on it if I’d had any choice.”

Macy went straight into the great room and dumped her armload of folded clothes on the nearest chair. “I know. You’re a good man, Jericho Yates. That’s one of the reasons I twisted your arm into agreeing to marry me.”

“Now, Mace. You aren’t holding a gun to my head. I volunteered to help you out with T.J.”

“Yes, you did. And I love you for it.” She turned and touched his arm. “You are really a good guy, my friend. Too good to get saddled with a wife who won’t ever love you the way she should. I can’t do it to you.

“I’m calling the wedding off permanently,” she blurted. “You’re off the hook for good.”

Relief mixed with sadness and kicked him in the gut. He didn’t want to get married, but he would do anything to help Macy out in her time of need.

“What about T.J.? How are you going to take control of him now?” When she didn’t answer, Jericho stepped up again. “Look, I can make some extra time for him this summer. Just as soon as I find a link to our mystery woman, my schedule should lighten up.”

Macy smiled softly. “T.J. is a big part of the reason I’m canceling our wedding. You know he’s in the middle of doing that community service project you arranged for him over at the state park this week. He’s not pleased about having to make up for the toilet-paper and mailbox mangling incidents, but I hope he’s learning his lesson and is staying out of trouble.

“And then earlier this week Jewel agreed to let T.J. work at the Hopechest Ranch for the rest of the summer.” Macy’s smile brightened. “The hard work should be good for him. But that means you don’t have to worry about making time for him. He’ll be plenty busy.”

Several emotions flitted through Jericho at breakneck speed. Disappointment came first. Then another level of relief. Finally, a streak of annoyance came and went. Now he would have no excuse for not spending all his time with Rosie and working on her case.

“Do you think T.J. is going to be broken up about the change in marriage plans?” He hoped not. Deep down the kid was really good and Jericho hated to see him hurt.

Macy shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. Actually, he’s been pretty antsy over us getting married. I imagine he’ll be happy to hear his mother will continue being single.”

Jericho didn’t like the sound of that. “Is he still upset over my giving him community service? I only did it to keep him out of the juvenile system. I…”

“No, Jericho,” she interrupted. “You did the best thing for him. You’re not trying to be his friend. Me neither. It’s our job as adults to do the right thing. I really believe T.J.’s biggest trouble with the wedding is Tim’s memory. He saw you as Tim’s friend for so long that he couldn’t quite get past the changeover to having you take Tim’s place.”

“But I wasn’t…I wouldn’t.”

Macy chuckled at his mumbling protests. “I know. And T.J. would’ve found that out if he’d had the chance.

“But calling it off is for the best,” she continued. “For all of us. This way, you’ll have the opportunity to find someone who you can…”

At that moment, Rosie cleared her throat to announce that she was interrupting. She still had on his old T-shirt but she’d slipped on her jeans underneath it and her hair was wet from the shower. The sight of her in the hallway simply set his veins on fire.

The difference between how he’d felt seeing Macy and how he felt right now seeing Rosie seemed extreme. And he didn’t care for it one bit.

Chapter 4

“You must be the one Jericho’s calling Rosie. I’m Macy Ward.” The woman rushed over and reached out to capture her hands. “Jericho’s old friend. It’s gotta be terrible for you, not having any memories. I was so shocked when I heard. You poor thing.”

Taken aback by such an effusive greeting, Rosie felt torn between laughing and running for her life. But there was just something about Macy Ward that made her want to smile.

Slinging her arm around Rosie’s shoulder, Macy hugged her close. “I brought you some decaffeinated teas and a few things to wear, honey. Just to get you by for a day or two. I can’t imagine not having a closet or even a purse to call your own.

“Oh, makeup,” Macy added with a start. “Darn. I should’ve thought of that, too.”

“Um. That’s okay. I don’t know if I wear any.” With that thought, Rosie lifted the back of her hand to her mouth in an effort to hold off what might turn into a sob.

But she stopped in midair, struck by the wayward idea that she might be a nail biter. Checking, Rosie was relieved to find her nails seemed intact. And manicured and polished at that.

So she was a woman who took care of her appearance. Spent money and time on it. Not that anyone could judge by the way she looked this morning. One glance in the bathroom mirror after her shower, and Rosie had nearly fled screaming. In addition to the bruises and cuts, her disaster of a hairdo could not possibly be normal. Not only didn’t it look like she’d spent any money or time on it, but it just didn’t feel right.

Rosie nearly broke down again as she wondered how long it might take her to get a clear idea of what her hair was really supposed to look like. Would that ever happen? It was possible, she supposed, that the memory would never return. But thinking that way made her knees weak.

Macy turned back to Jericho, who had been standing there with his mouth gaping open. “Jericho, fix Rosie this tea and us some coffee, will you? Maybe you could even scramble Rosie a couple of eggs. You do have fresh eggs?”

Being called down by Macy seemed to shake Jericho out of his reverie. “I’ve got a few eggs, and the coffee’s already made. What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to help Rosie change. The things I brought should be a close fit to her size. She’s a little taller and thinner than I am, though. So we’ll have to see.” With that, Macy spun them both around and headed down the hall.

Rosie heard Jericho mumbling from over her shoulder. “Well, sure. Y’all help just yourselves. I’ll cook.”

Fifteen minutes later and she was still feeling a bit weepy. Macy had been trying to brush her awful hair into some semblance of a style. Of course, without much luck.

Rosie thought things in general seemed a lot better. Macy bringing clean underwear had been a real blessing. Putting clean clothes on made Rosie feel almost human again. They’d discovered Macy’s slacks were about an inch too short and the shoulders of her blouse were big enough for a Rosie and a half—yet the buttons in front barely closed. Still, clean clothes had made a world of difference in how Rosie saw her situation.

“I’m sorry I messed up your wedding yesterday, Macy. Are you upset? Can you reschedule?”

The other woman turned and captured her in a big bear hug. “You’re a sweetheart for thinking of me when you have so much trouble of your own. But not to worry. The wedding is off for good. You didn’t mess up a thing.”

Rosie’s curiosity was piqued and she decided she didn’t care about sounding too nosy around this sweet woman with the blazing white smile and two tiny dimples. “Why did you call it off? Did something happen between you and Jericho?”

“Come sit down with me for a moment,” Macy said as she led her back into the spare bedroom and plopped on the bed. “Let me tell you something about the man who’s taken you in.”

Curious, Rosie eased down beside her. She didn’t remember a thing about her past, but maybe it would be smart to know a whole lot more about her present.

“When I was born in this small town,” Macy began, “there were several boys who lived on my block. I guess I was kind of a tomboy as a kid because two of those boys who were my age became my best friends. I never had much to do with the other little girls in town.”

It was nice hearing Macy talk about her past. Somehow her story seemed to be grounding Rosie.

“One of those two best guy friends was always acting as my protector and big brother. Countless times he saved me from bullies and rescued me from runaway horses and from out of trees.” Macy’s dimples showed at the memories. “By the time I was twelve, though, it was the other one who’d captured my heart. I developed a huge crush on that one and it quickly turned to love. We married the minute we were old enough.”

“Jericho was the big brother of the two.” Rosie was sure Jericho hadn’t been the lover.

“Of course. He’s still doing it, too. My husband, Tim, died about six years ago and Jericho stepped in to make sure my son T.J. and I were okay. I’m not sure what we would’ve done without him.”

“But Jericho’s never been married?”

Macy’s smile dimmed slightly. “No. But in my opinion, it’s just that he’s never found the right woman. Everyone who knows him loves and respects him. He could’ve had his pick of any woman in the county.”

“But not you? You’re sure?”

It was a sad smile that Macy wore by the time she answered. “I wish I felt differently. But no. I’m sure. Jericho and I are like brother and sister. We’ll never get past that. I know he’s relieved to be getting out of our marriage agreement. But he’s still the best man in the entire county.

“Who else would’ve agreed to marry his best friend just so her son would have a father?” Macy shook her head sadly and patted Rosie’s hand. “Enough about me. How are you feeling? You look a bit pale. Are you queasy? Let’s go get you something to eat.”

For a split second when Rosie appeared out of the bedroom wearing Macy’s clothes, Jericho had been absolutely positive the image he saw was all wrong. This mystery woman did not belong in cotton slacks and long-sleeved, button-down shirts, of that he was sure. He envisioned her as being more into silks and fancy designer duds. But then when he blinked once, the lost woman with no past was back and it didn’t matter what she wore, his heart went out to her.

As the three of them sat around his kitchen table and Rosie ate breakfast, Macy babbled on about the current happenings in her life. Jericho suspected she was doing it to make Rosie forget her predicament.

“My boss, Jewel Mayfair—you’ll love her when you meet her, Rosie. Well, anyway, she’s had a kind of rough life. But her uncle is Joe Colton. He’s that senator in California who’s running for president, you know?”

Jericho cut in, “Macy, Doc O’Neal said we shouldn’t expect Rosie to bring back memories just yet. She’s supposed to relax and just let things come to her on their own.”

“Oh, but…” Rosie interrupted. “The name Joe Colton does ring a bell. He must be really famous.”

“Or maybe you were just interested in politics.” Macy added her own conjecture. “I know that the presidential campaign has been really heating up on TV. Jewel says her uncle has lots of influential backers. But since our Texas governor entered the race against Senator Colton, Jewel says things haven’t been going so well. And I can imagine that’s right. Governor Daniels is really hot. I voted for him for governor, and he can probably count on my vote for president, too. But don’t tell Jewel.”

Rosie chuckled, but then put her head in her hands. “I don’t know. Everything sounds familiar but nothing is. The harder I try…”

Jericho would’ve liked nothing better than to take Rosie in his arms to comfort her just then. But Macy leaned over and lifted a gentle hand to Rosie’s shoulder.

“Then don’t try, sweetie.” She turned to Jericho. “Maybe you could help Rosie by finding out the kinds of things she likes to do when she’s relaxing. For instance, you know I love to read romance novels. I’m positive that wouldn’t change about me even if I couldn’t remember anything else.”

Okay, Jericho had always figured he made a pretty good detective when it came to catching criminals. But this kind of detective work seemed a little over his head.

“Uh, what kinds of things would you suggest she try?” he asked Macy.

Macy raised her eyebrows and then tilted her head to study Rosie. “Most women would love a good relaxing day at a spa—along with some chocolate. But there aren’t any spas around here. And I always love a good relaxing day of shopping, which is also in limited supply in Esperanza, Texas, I’m afraid.

“Um…” Macy looked around the great room as though something might come to her. “Maybe she has a hobby. Like sewing or knitting. Or…” She swung her arm around to indicate Rosie should look at the room. “Decorating. Does anything about this room speak to you?”

Rosie blinked a couple of times and then glanced over Jericho’s furnishings. “It just says man’s man

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