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UNFORGETTABLE

by Samantha Hunter

CAPTIVATE ME

by Kira Sinclair

UNRATED! Super-Sexy Reads

Unforgettable

Samantha Hunter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SAMANTHA HUNTER lives in Syracuse, New York, where she writes full-time for Mills & Boon. When she’s not plotting her next story, Sam likes to work in her garden, quilt, cook, read and spend time with her husband and their dogs. You can check out what’s new, enter contests or drop her a note at Sam’s website, www.samanthahunter.com.

For Sandy, always a puppy in my heart.

Contents

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

Extract

Endpage

1

“ERIN, C’MON, YOU’LL have fun, and if anyone needs to have some fun, it’s you.”

Erin Riley shook her head at her friend Dana Rogers, who grabbed Erin’s hand and pulled.

“Come join me,” Dana invited. “Let loose.”

Erin let her friend drag her along, and before she knew it, strong arms were boosting them up on top of the bar. Dana was grinning like the wild woman that she was, dancing even before the music started.

They were having a fun night out, and as she looked around the bar, Erin was self-conscious at first. She seriously thought about climbing back down, but everyone was watching and chanting dance, dance, dance.

So she started to dance, and that’s when things got better. A lot better.

Letting go, she raised her arms high and put more hip-swing into it, much to the crowd’s appreciation. Dana hooted in approval and danced with her. Erin had to admit, she enjoyed how the guys were slack-jawed as they watched. She smiled at them and winked as she turned and shimmied to a blaring version of “I’m Alright.” For that one moment, she was all right. Perfect, in fact.

Erin felt sexy, which she hadn’t in a long time.

Noting the heat in the eyes of a few men who watched, she also felt powerful. In control, for the first time in a while.

Dana was right. This was exactly what Erin needed, so she planned to enjoy herself. This was her second chance. She wasn’t going to waste one single minute.

She’d almost died, after all. A former firefighter, she’d been inside a building when an explosion had knocked her down and she’d been trapped by a loose beam. After several brain surgeries and a week in an induced coma, she’d come out of it all with no memory of her life. Most of her adult past had been obliterated, though she could remember her childhood. The doctors said it was uncertain when or how much of her memory would come back.

Tastes and some emotions remained. She could like or dislike something—a place, food, etc. She could experience familiarity, without remembering something exactly. It was the same with people. For instance, the firemen she’d worked with for eight years had been her support system since she got out of the hospital. Still, they were strangers to her—mostly. When she was with them, or with Dana or her sister, she could feel the familiarity even when she couldn’t remember their history together.

She couldn’t, however, recall anything about the accident or being a firefighter. Another member of her crew had died in the same incident, and there was an ongoing investigation since the fire had been arson.

Erin couldn’t remember what happened. And she had tried. She had suffered and punished herself for not being able to remember, and she couldn’t do it anymore. All she knew was what people told her.

She also couldn’t remember who she was, but she finally realized that meant she could be anyone she wanted. Smiling as someone handed her a beer, she and Dana danced right into the next song.

Good thing she’d worn her new jeans and one of those tees that showed a teeny hint of belly. It was all courtesy of a recent shopping trip with Dana, who had helped Erin supplement her otherwise pitiful wardrobe. Apparently it was something Dana had wanted to do for quite some time.

When she’d gotten home from the hospital, Erin thought there must be a guy living at her house. Most of her clothes were for work or bore the insignias of her department. Not a single pair of high heels in the lot—not like the ones she was wearing now.

Even her pajamas were cotton pants and oversize fire department T-shirts.

Those days were over.

Sending a sexy smile to the cute bartender, she planned on making up for lost time. She tilted her head back and chugged her beer as the song ended, enjoying the chants that accompanied her finale.

When she was done, her head spun. Her skin was warm. She laughed, wobbling a bit as she handed her glass back to the bartender.

She and Dana finally made their way down off the bar to riotous applause. Several burly men—most of them firemen or cops—happily offered a helping hand.

Dana was a dispatcher and engaged to a firefighter in the unit Erin had worked with. He met her back on the floor with a kiss.

“I can’t leave you alone for a minute, can I?” Scott scolded, but he was grinning. His eyes were warm as he took in his fiancée. Erin averted her eyes discreetly from the deepening kiss that the two were sharing in front of everyone.

Erin cleared her throat. “Okay, well, then, I’ll just go back to the table and eat all of those wings.”

Dana never broke the kiss while waving her away, making Erin laugh. She suspected the lovebirds were going to find some privacy, and she left them to it.

As she walked back to their table, she figured she should have known better. She could hear the boisterous voices of the crew the minute she crossed the floor toward the tables at the back. They saw her, too. No doubt they’d seen her up on the bar, as well.

“What’s up, Buttercup?” Hank shouted.

“Tulip!” Leroy followed up.

“Daisy!” Derek added with a snicker.

The last one got a round of high fives as Erin took a breath and approached the group, smirking at them for teasing her about her work at the flower shop. Her sister owned the shop and had taken her on as soon as Erin was able.

Still, it was a far cry from being a firefighter to working as a florist. Not so long ago, she’d been one of the guys, so she tried to act like it. As if nothing had changed.

“You guys calling each other pet names again?” she asked as she joined them. Giving as good as she got was par for the course with this bunch. “Leroy must be Daisy, since he’s always fresh as one.”

Another round of laughter rose and then settled down as Leroy eyed her from the other side of the long table.

“Someday, when your memory comes back, you’ll pay for that one.” The threat was playful and made with a glint in his eye.

“I hope that day comes,” she said, more serious than she meant to be.

“We do, too,” Pete said as they all became quiet.

Erin frowned. “Sorry, didn’t mean to be a downer. Hand me a beer?”

“Gladly. Nice moves up there, by the way. We never knew you could dance like that.”

“Yeah, me, either.”

She accepted another beer and helped herself to some wings.

“Carry on, then,” she said, waving them on like a queen to her subjects. That succeeded in lightening the mood again.

“Hey, we thought of something that could help with your memory,” Leroy said.

“Yeah. What?”

“You said the doctors told you that things from your life before could help bring your memory back, right? We have a lot of stories we could tell.”

“Those stories are probably things she’d rather leave forgotten,” Pete said with a grin.

Erin smiled. It was good to be around friends who could joke with her about her memory loss. It balanced out the absolute terror and grief that had been frequent, though less so these days.

“I’m game. Take your best shot.”

“Well, there was this time when Riley came running out from that fire at the old folks’ home, carrying the older gentleman, buck naked and thrown over her shoulder,” Pete offered with a wry smile. “They got him on the gurney and he wouldn’t let the medics take him away until he asked her out on a date.”

Erin’s jaw dropped. “That did not happen.”

She liked how they called her by her last name. She felt more like a “Riley” than an “Erin” anyway, in spite of her sexy clothes.

“Oh, it really did. And you said yes.”

The guys made a few lewd comments and laughter picked up, and Derek put a hand on her arm.

“You were being kind. You brought him dinner a couple of nights when he was in the hospital and watched TV with him. That was your date. He passed away a few months later, and his family sent you a thank-you for your visits.”

Erin swallowed hard and nodded.

“There was also the time we told you everyone was dressing up for duty on Halloween and you showed up at the station as Princess Leia. The alarm rang almost as soon as you arrived. You had to change in the truck, which you did, without batting an eye, I’ll add. Though you fought the whole fire wearing the braids. I have to find the picture that made it into the paper,” Pete said nostalgically.

Even Erin had to laugh at that. She lifted her hand to her hair, now boy-short as it grew in after being cut and shaved for surgeries. She couldn’t remember it long, but in most of the pictures she saw, she wore either ponytails or braids. She wasn’t sure if she’d grow it long again. Having it short was convenient, especially for summer. Her sister said it framed her face better, and made her eyes look bigger.

“You always swore like a sailor. More quarters in the jar for pizza night from you than anyone.”

Erin appreciated them filling in gaps for her, but the stories felt as if they were about someone else. She was just getting to know these people whom she had known for years. Men and women who had trusted her with their lives.

She wanted to have it all back, her history with these people. Her whole life. It wasn’t likely; the doctors said the longer she didn’t recall anything, the less chance that she would.

She put her beer on the table as her eyes burned.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” she said, pretending to bend to fix the strap on her shoe while she got hold of her emotions.

Apparently, they did this often, getting together for sports or food. Erin couldn’t remember, but it did feel normal. Normal was nice.

When she rose, they were already talking about other things—sports and upcoming vacations. She took a chair near the wall and munched on her wings.

As she licked some of the sauce from her fingers, she stopped and looked up, feeling as if she was being watched. And she was.

Bo Myers sat across the room, alone at his table, his eyes glued to her as if she were the only one there. His eyes rooted her to the spot and sent licks of heat scattering over her skin. She lost track of everything and almost tumbled her plate to the floor, catching it before it fell.

He was the local fire marshal. She’d met with him a few times since the accident. He’d been there when she’d woken up in the hospital.

He was an intense, somewhat intimidating man in every way—tall, brooding and powerful—with a serious face and eyes that meant business. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him smile. Irrationally, she always wanted to touch his hair. Bristly on top, but soft, she imagined. As if he had just rolled out of bed or gotten caught in a strong wind.

His magnetic eyes were, right now, focused on the finger she had been sucking some of the wing sauce from. She removed it from between her lips and grabbed a napkin.

The guys told her that Bo had been one of their crew before he’d moved on to being an investigator. It was hard to imagine. He was terse, quiet, and not at all like the rest of the group.

There was no question that he affected her differently than the other guys. They were all handsome, fit, and yet she felt nothing but some vague friendliness toward all of them. As if they were her brothers, or at least friends.

Bo, whom she hardly knew at all, had been taking center stage in her dreams lately—in a mostly naked way. The way he was looking at her now was almost as if he were angry, or as if he were undressing her. She wasn’t sure which, or which she wanted it to be.

“I think it’s time for me to go,” she said too brightly. She stood, pushing her plate to the side.

The guys barely noticed, and after a round of goodbyes, she decided to walk home. Her house was only a mile away and she needed the fresh air. And to get away from Bo Myers. But as she walked to the door, she made the mistake of looking back. His gaze met hers across the room, sending a shiver down her spine.

Then, as she reached for the door, he got up and headed directly toward her.

* * *

BO WASN’T SURE why he was following Erin as she left. She didn’t want his company. He should definitely keep his distance, as he had been doing. A clear, professional distance that ate away at him a bit each day.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept except due to sheer exhaustion. He’d come here tonight to remedy that with a few drinks. Maybe more than a few. He didn’t know she’d be here, and if he had, he would have avoided the bar completely. There were plenty more in Syracuse.

He thought he was seeing things when she’d gotten up on that bar—or rather when she’d been hoisted up by a guy with his hands on her ass. Her dancing had nearly killed him. It was so unlike her—except in private. She’d danced for him plenty of times—only for him.

The Erin he’d known would have died before dancing on a bar like that. Dana did it all the time. It was part of her personality, to be wild. Flirtatious. No one took it seriously—if they did, they’d have to deal with Scott.

But Erin, no way. It was all he could do not to drag her down off the bar, but what she did wasn’t his business anymore. Unfortunately, his body didn’t agree. When she’d started licking the barbecue sauce from her fingers, he’d stiffened and had to wait until he could stand up again.

He’d watched how she laughed and smiled with her crew, not noticing their covert glances at her curves and movements. She’d been one of them, one of the guys—but not now. They touched her more often than they did before. Casual, supportive touches, but still. Things were already changing.

Bo noticed, because he couldn’t touch her at all.

As he caught up with her, she stilled, looking right and left as if seeking an escape. That irritated him. He’d never done anything to hurt her. Quite the opposite.

“Riley,” he said, feeling like a teenager who was talking to the beautiful girl he wanted, but he had nothing prepared to say.

He blinked, his head buzzing. Maybe he should have skipped that last Scotch.

“How are you?” he managed to ask.

Erin always had a way of looking at him. Her clear green eyes would darken to a mossy-jade, and she would seem to completely absorb him with that gaze. For a second, he’d caught that look again when their eyes met across the room. Bo felt that connection, strong as ever. He wanted to think what they’d had was too strong for the explosion, or her amnesia, to wipe out.

But now she looked at him like a stranger. There was a gleam of panic in her expression, as well. Why?

“Hello, Marshal. I’m good. Thanks. Actually, um, I was just leaving.” Her tone was distant, polite. Eager to go.

She was the woman he knew—in her movements, her expressions—but in many ways she was oddly unfamiliar.

He knew what every inch of her smelled like, tasted like. He knew everything she liked in bed and out, and the memories of it had haunted him for months. The thought of touching her made his heart slam harder in his chest.

They’d broken up a month before her accident, and in that time, he’d missed her deeply.

What was there to say, really? He’d asked her to make a choice, and she had. It wasn’t him. Everything hadn’t been right between them, he knew that. They both had secrets, both held back. When he wanted more, she wasn’t willing to give it.

That was that.

The day of the explosion was one of the worst moments of his life.

But she was alive. Here in front of him, staring at him as though she very much wanted him to leave her alone.

To her, he was just another jerk in a bar. Or not even that. Anger boiled inside him, not at her, but at the situation. How many times, and in how many ways, could he lose this woman?

“’Night, Marshal.” She slipped out the door into the evening without another word.

Bo took a long breath and returned to his table and sat, throwing back the last of the Scotch he’d ordered, cursing under his breath as he tossed a few bills on the table. He told himself to let her walk away.

“Everything okay, Bo?”

It was Hank, one of the crew. Bo had worked with them for five years after leaving the New York State Police, with his eye on the job he had now as an investigator. It was his ultimate goal—the only thing he ever wanted, except for Erin. He had to forget about her, especially when he was investigating her case.

Not that it was getting anywhere. She was the only witness to what had happened, and she couldn’t remember a thing. It had been arson, though they had very little evidence to pursue. Whoever had set the fire had known what they were doing. Bo worried that they’d do it again if he couldn’t catch them, but he had four other cases waiting on his desk.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.”

He dismissed Hank, heading for the door. He didn’t feel like sitting around making small talk, and he could get drunk in his own living room.

It was a warm June night, and he walked out into the parking lot where the faint smell of cigarette smoke hung in the air. Picnic tables lined a patch of worn grass that ran down the side of the lot, where folks could hang out or smoke. Or find a few minutes alone, away from the crowded bar.

He looked for Erin, hoping she hadn’t driven after how much she’d been drinking. He heard a noise, and spotted her at the edge of the lot. She was sitting at one of the tables.

“Erin?”

She turned, startled. “Oh, hi. Again.”

“What are you doing?”

He saw her shrug in silhouette. “Just getting some air. Seeing how many constellations I can remember and wondering for the one millionth time why I can tell you exactly where the Big Dipper is but I can’t tell you anything really important.”

He nodded. “Well, you know the doctors said—”

“I know what they said,” she cut him off. “It was more of a rhetorical question.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Why are you out here?”

“I was leaving, but I’m glad to catch you before you left. You know, back in the bar...the dancing. That probably wasn’t a great idea.”

She frowned. “Why not?”

“You might go back to the job, or at least to the department, someday. You don’t want to change the way the guys see you, and believe me, they’re looking at you differently these days.”

She shrugged a second time.

“I don’t care. And it’s really none of your business.”

She’d gotten up from the table, intended to walk past him. He caught her arm gently, stopping her. He left it there for a beat, then dropped his hold.

“There’s something else.”

“What?”

“Joe’s family. They want you investigated. Including any past reports or problems.”

“Why?”

“They’re grieving, looking for explanations.”

“So they think they can pin his death on me?”

“They can’t, and their accusations are unfounded, we know that. But it would be advisable to keep, well, a lower profile, I suppose. Until things are settled.”

Now he was talking stupid, too. It was the truth about Joe’s family, but none of this would impact the investigation. They had no grounds, medical or otherwise, to think that Erin was at fault.

Bo was telling her what he needed to tell her. For his own reasons. It might not be right, but that was something different altogether.

“Screw that,” she said flatly, trying to step around him.

The night air lifted her scent. It surrounded him, mixing with the sweet evening aromas of fresh grass and recent rain. Though distracted, he reached out, stopping her again. He knew he shouldn’t.

“So now what? What next?” he asked.

They were close. She looked up at him, and the irritation in her face melted into something else. Bo didn’t know if it was his imagination or wishful thinking, but heat arced between them the way it had back in the bar.

The way it always had.

“I don’t understand this,” she said, stuttering a bit, unsure. Rattled.

“What don’t you understand?”

“Why I― What this thing is with you.”

“What thing would that be, exactly?”

“Why I feel...when we... I don’t know you. I don’t even think I like you much,” she said, shaking her head. “But when I look at you, I...”

She remembered. Or some part of her did.

He took her chin between his forefinger and thumb.

Bo’s heartbeat was racing, too. He should walk away, call a cab and leave. He should let this be.

But he wasn’t going to.

“I think I know what you mean. I feel it, too,” he said, his voice a whisper.

Her eyes widened, and without warning she turned her cheek into his palm. The light rub of her skin on his set his blood on fire, and sense evaporated. Everything was lost to the night except being close to her, finally. Bo wanted to be closer.

He put his hand at the back of her neck, bringing her forward until she bumped up against him. Then they were kissing, and it was the first time he could breathe in months.

He thought it would be a quick, gentle kiss, but need came on so hot and sudden it knocked all the sense out of him. Her arms wrapped around him, and she was pressing into him as she always had, as hungry as he was.

Bo pulled her in tighter, parting her lips and kissing her as passionately as he could. Still it wasn’t enough.

She was breathing hard as he slipped his hand along the small of her back, up under the edge of her shirt. Her skin was cool from the night air.

He explored her throat before working his way up to her lips again, but she pulled away, as if suddenly realizing what was happening. At the same time, voices rose in the lot behind them.

Bo couldn’t think straight. He reached for her again.

“Erin, don’t—”

She pushed past him and ran down the sidewalk.

He stared after her, cursed under his breath, some little thread of clarity returning.

What had he just done?

If his place in the investigation had been iffy before, he’d just made it a lot worse. No one knew about his previous relationship with Erin—they’d seen each other in off-hours, never telling anyone. If the department found out now, well, things could get complicated. At best, they’d take him off the case. At worst...well, he didn’t want to think about it.

They could think he was covering for her. They could think he was ethically compromised in any number of ways.

As he strode through the lot, reaching for his phone with slightly shaking hands, he couldn’t help one thought that kept going around in the back of his head as her scent and taste still lingered. No matter what happened, it had been worth it.

2

ERIN DREW HER hand back quickly as she saw the blood well on her fingertip.

“Stupid thorns.”

She was sorting roses for arrangements, making sure only the perfect, healthiest ones made it into the bouquets. Her fingers were freezing, but she couldn’t do the work with gloves, so she’d risked the thorns.

Rinsing off the wound, she grabbed a paper towel from the rack and held it until it stopped bleeding. It was only one of about a dozen scrapes and punctures she’d gotten from the flowers that day.

Working for a florist wasn’t something she wanted to do, but it was something to do. She wasn’t a paid employee, but Kit said she could always use the free help, and at least it kept her busy. Erin couldn’t hole up in her house all day doing nothing until her memory came back. Then she really would go crazy.

However, even the prickly thorns didn’t take her mind off Bo Myers.

Maybe she was fumbling the flowers so much because she hadn’t slept all night, and when she did doze off, he was kissing her again. And more.

Much, much more.

She’d dreamed of him before in hazy, undefined ways, but last night... Well, her imagination had had a lot more material to work with. Her fantasies had been very specific. She remembered the whorls of dark hair on his chest as her fingers had touched him. The hard muscles of his thigh and in particular, a mark on the side of his hip that her mind returned to again and again. It was shaped like an almond, dark against his normal skin tone.

She’d pressed her lips to it, hearing him moan as her hands explored elsewhere.

And there had been apples.

Usually, her dreams were smoky and shapeless, everything occurring in jumbles against a blurred background. But last night she’d seen apples. As if she were looking up from the ground, under a tree full of ripe, red fruit.

When he’d kissed her outside the bar, it had been a surprise, but on a deeper, more basic level, it had been familiar and right.

Her hands trembled as she returned to the roses, sorting them by variety without further injury and putting them in fresh water and into the coolers. Then she headed out front, where she saw that the closed sign had been flipped and her sister was bent over the computer on the counter.

“Evening already? What time is it?”

“Four-thirty. I closed a bit early.”

Kit—short for Kathleen, a name that Erin learned her sister had never liked—looked up from her work, eyeing the front of Erin’s shirt with a smirk. “The roses biting again?”

“How could you... Oh,” she said, looking down to see blood from various scrapes had gotten on the white blouse she wore.

“I told you to wear one of the aprons,” Kit said in true older-sister, know-it-all tone. So what if she had been right?

“I will next time, Kathleen,” Erin said with appropriate sisterly sarcasm.

Kit’s lips twitched with humor.

“Well, it’s good that you remember how to be annoying.”

Erin stuck her tongue out and they laughed. Joking around was good and helped dispel some of the ghosts she’d been wrestling with—and her thoughts about Bo.

“Do you mind if I take off early, too?”

Kit looked at Erin over the top of her glasses, frowning. “You’re going out with the guys from the firehouse again?”

Tension settled between them, as Erin struggled between telling Kit what happened and telling her she wasn’t her mother. Erin could go where she wanted, including out with the crew.

Kit had told her outright that she’d never been a fan of Erin’s chosen profession. The accident had made her even more set against it. Kit didn’t even seem to like her hanging out with the guys, but Erin enjoyed seeing them. She wondered what her sister would think about what happened with Bo.

“I can tell something is bothering you. Spill.” Kit was way too perceptive.

Erin chose her words carefully. “Do you know if I was seeing anyone before the accident? If there was a guy? Someone special?”

Kit’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t think so. You were all about the job and never mentioned anyone. Did you remember something?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I’ve been having some dreams, and I can’t tell if it’s a memory or a figment of my imagination, but I saw someone at the bar last night, and he was...familiar.”

“How so?”

“You know. Familiar,” Erin said again, with an emphasis that made her sister nod knowingly.

“Well, I suppose you might have hooked up with someone and not said anything. But you never told me about it, not that you would have.”

Erin frowned. Apparently, she and Kit had not exactly been close sisters, though Kit had been there for her every minute since the accident. Whatever tension was between them didn’t matter when the chips were down.

“Did he know you?”

Erin nodded. “There was definite chemistry. The explosive kind.”

Erin couldn’t remember anything about sex, not since making out with her senior year boyfriend in high school and letting him get her bra off. That was her last clear memory.

It was disconcerting, not knowing her sexual history. She’d been on birth control at the time of the fire, so she must have had an active sex life, but she couldn’t remember any of it.

“Well, what did he say?”

“Um, not much, really. I kind of bolted before we talked.”

Kit’s expression was sympathetic. “I know this is hard for you, and it has to be frightening to bump into people, especially men, who might know you better than you know yourself, but maybe he could help. Maybe if you talked with him, he could help you remember. Was he a member of the department?”

“Yeah, he was. We talked, and I left. I guess I, well... Last night was weird.”

“Talk to him if you get a chance. But make sure there are other people around, you know, the usual safety drill.”

Erin had been thinking the same thing. It was clear that there was something between her and the fire marshal, but the only one who could tell her what was Bo. But if they had been an item, why had he kept it secret until now?

“Or maybe it’s better if you don’t,” Kit said, changing gears. “Being with the guys so often at the firehouse could be a bad idea. You should be moving forward, not get stuck in the past.”

Erin couldn’t help the irritation that her sister’s comment spawned. “They’re my only friends. And they help. If I can get my memory back—”

“I think you have to face that you’re not going back to that job.”

“There’s a chance, if I can get my memory back—”

Kit shook her head. “I’m sorry, honey, I know you loved it, but it would be like starting from scratch, even if you do remember.”

“Then that’s what I’ll do.”

“Being with them gives you false hope. Keeps you from finding something new. I don’t know why you’d want to go back to being a firefighter anyway. It nearly killed you.”

Kit’s features tightened with fear and grief, and Erin’s heart softened. The nurses said that her sister had been by Erin’s bedside every day at the hospital. Some nights, too, when things were iffy about her condition. Kit had also taken care of their mother when she was dying, and ran her own business while she was helping Erin.

Erin tried to imagine what it was like for people having to deal with her accident and her amnesia, but she was also tired of feeling responsible for it. She really didn’t agree with her sister about hanging out with the guys—it didn’t give her false hope. It gave her some sense of stability. But she could understand her sister’s fear.

“I’m sorry it was so hard for you. And I’m grateful you’ve let me be here with you. It’s nice to spend time together. I assume we didn’t do that so much before?”

Kit sighed, the strain melting away somewhat. “No, we didn’t. Sometimes we’d have lunch on your days off, but even then, you were usually at the firehouse. I’d meet you there.”

“I’m sorry. The more I hear, the more I know that I gave everything to the job. Maybe too much. But I do appreciate it. And I appreciate you. I really do.”

Erin closed the distance to hug her sister.

Kit hugged her back. “I’m not trying to be critical. I know they’re your friends. But I worry about your future.”

“It’s only been a few months since I’ve been out of the hospital. I’m not giving up yet on getting my past back. I don’t know what I’ll do with my life, and the job, but right now I need to remember. I have to have hope, false or otherwise.”

“Okay. But maybe you can find a safer line of work next time?”

Erin held up her scraped fingers. “Like handling flowers? I’m willing to bet I didn’t end up this bloody on a daily basis as a firefighter.”

Kit couldn’t resist a grin, shaking her head. “True, you are not a natural florist.”

“What are you doing tonight?” Erin asked, changing the topic.

“Quarterly taxes for the store are almost due. I’m way behind on accounting.”

Erin felt a pinch of guilt; her sister was behind, no doubt because of her.

“Another night working? So I take it you’re not seeing anyone right now, either?”

Kit rolled her eyes. “The market has been down lately.”

Erin chuckled. “Tomorrow night, I’m taking you to dinner.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Great. It’s a date.”

Erin left, glad the tension had lifted. With her sister anyway. She was one big knot inside at the thought of seeing Bo again.

Her watch told her that she might already be too late to catch him at his office. There was no way she could get home to change and then head over to the station, but she didn’t want to wait until tomorrow.

When she reached her car, the decision was made for her as her cell phone rang. She looked down to see Bo’s caller ID. Not his name, just “Fire Investigation,” which was how he’d been labeled in her work contact list. If they did have a personal relationship, there was very little evidence of it. Wouldn’t there have been emails or phone calls? A cute picture of him on her phone?

“Hello?”

“Erin.”

“Marshal Myers.”

“Bo, please.”

She hadn’t used his first name before, but considering she might have ended up having sex with him on the picnic table outside the bar if no one had interrupted the night before, she supposed they were way past formalities.

“I was hoping you might be able to meet me. To talk, if you have time,” he said, breaking into her thoughts.

Hearing his voice made her think of his lips. His lips made her think of—

She ruthlessly cut off that line of thought. “I was thinking the same thing, actually. I’m leaving the shop now. I could be at your office in—”

“No, not the office. Your place?”

She paused. Was this smart? Why didn’t he want to meet at his office, which was a safe, neutral ground? Did she feel comfortable enough with Bo to invite him to her house?

In a sense, no. She wasn’t sure that what they had to talk about was fodder for public ears, either.

“How about that diner by the lake? June’s?” she suggested. It had booths in the back, enough privacy to talk, but it was public enough so that they wouldn’t, well, whatever.

He was so quiet she thought that he might have hung up.

“Are you there?”

“That works. An hour?”

“Okay, yes. That’s good.”

They hung up without further discussion.

The hour would give her time to go home, wash up and change her shirt, but as she stood in front of her closet twenty minutes later, she froze, unable to choose what to wear. All of the clothes she’d picked out with Dana now seemed too sexy—too inviting.

But she didn’t want to wear any of her department shirts—that felt like a lie.

She growled in frustration, disgusted. She was meeting him at a diner, and it wasn’t a date. They were going to talk. That was all. She didn’t need to dress to impress.

Taking a blue blouse from the hanger, she put it on with the jeans she was already wearing and didn’t bother checking in the mirror lest she change her mind. It would be fine. She lifted her hand to her hair, a reflex making her try to push it behind her ear. She kept forgetting it was short.

Locking the house, she took off and arrived at the diner just in time. The fire department SUV that Bo drove was already parked in the lot. He was early.

Her heartbeat picked up pace, and her hands were actually sweating. Damn.

“Oh, get over yourself, Riley,” she muttered under her breath.

Getting out of the car, she slammed the door harder than she meant to. Nerves. She calmed herself, then walked inside.

Bo was at the back—apparently having had the same thought she did about privacy—though June’s wasn’t too full tonight. All the booths around them were empty, and she stepped forward. He was talking to a server who was putting a drink and menus on the table, and he smiled at the young waitress.

There was no flirtation―it was simply a friendly smile―but it tripped Erin up. He was in his uniform this time and that alone was striking. But that smile. It was killer. And it was for someone else.

A sharp pinch—jealousy?—grabbed at her chest. On the way to the booth, she passed the server who winked at her as she blew her bangs up, as if needing to cool down.

“Nice to see you again, hon. It’s been a while.”

The waitress had already hurried past by the time Erin could reply. She approached Bo with what she hoped was a casual, friendly smile.

“Hi. I hope you haven’t been waiting long. I needed to go home and change. Crazy as it seems, I manage to make more of a mess of myself working with flowers than I probably did when I fought fires.”

Oh, cripes, she was babbling.

He looked so good, sitting there in his uniform shirt, those long fingers wrapped around a coffee mug.

“It’s only been few minutes. Thanks for agreeing to meet me.”

So few words, and yet he managed to make her knees shake. She sat and found that she suddenly had nothing to say. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.

How the heck did she tell this man that she’d been having hot and heavy dreams about him, and she needed to know if they’d ever had sex? Jumping right in was the only option that came to mind.

* * *

“THE WAITRESS KNEW me. She seemed to know...us. Was there an...us?”

“We used to come here now and then,” Bo hedged, taken aback by her sudden question. She was clearly nervous, and he was now doubting the wisdom of meeting again. Especially here.

He was unsure how much to share. Last night he’d shared way too much.

“With other people, like at the bar? Or together?”

Jill, the server, returned with Erin’s drink, which he’d ordered on reflex. His error became apparent when she stared at the Coke and lime twist for a second, then met his eyes knowingly.

“How long were we together?”

He blew out a breath and leaned into the table, clasping his hands tighter around the mug as he rested forward on his elbows.

“Almost a year. Maybe I should have told you, but...it didn’t seem like it would help. You’d been through enough, and I had a job to do. It didn’t seem...relevant.”

Her eyebrows flew up, and he saw the pulse fluttering hard in her throat. She reached for her soda and took several long draws.

“Are you okay?”

She put the glass down with a sigh. “I’m fine. After last night, maybe even before, I knew, on some level, but I never thought...a year? I thought it might have been a hookup or something. There’s nothing that would have made me think we were dating, not for that long. No pictures, nothing in my home of yours... nothing.”

“You weren’t sentimental that way, and it was over well before your accident. You probably took me off your email and phone. But you were also paranoid about anyone finding out, so we didn’t really text or stuff like that. Anyway, last night is what I wanted to talk to you about. I was out of line. I’d had too much to drink. No excuse, of course. But I wanted to know if you were going to file a report.”

She frowned. “What kind of report? I’ve already given my statement, and I don’t know what else—”

“A report on me, Erin. A complaint. About what happened.”

“Why? Why would I do that?”

She sounded completely shocked, and he withheld his response as their food arrived. He wasn’t really that hungry. He hadn’t slept at all the night before, no wonder, and he’d been a growling bear all day. His supervisor wanted Erin’s case closed, unsolved. There were others he needed to get to, but he couldn’t let this go. Someone had hurt her; Bo was going to find out who it was, if he had to do it on his own free time.

Whatever it took.

“I shouldn’t have done what I did. I know I’m all but a stranger to you, no matter what happened in our past. I had no right. I wanted to apologize, but I understand if you want to report it. I wanted to let you know that.”

Unlike him, Erin dug into her spaghetti dinner as though it was going to save her from certain death. She’d always been a stress eater. He didn’t know where she put it, she was so slim, but she always could eat as much as any of the guys on the crew.

He thought this would be easier. A professional meeting in a public place. He wanted to apologize and reassure her it wouldn’t happen again. Still, she had a right to file a formal report. She was a member of the department, and he was investigating an incident in which she was involved. It was his job to let her know she had recourse.

“I don’t want to file a report, and you have nothing to apologize for. I wasn’t exactly fighting you off.”

She said it with a wry grimace, as if more disappointed with herself than him.

“Erin, if I scared you, or hurt you—”

“You did neither.” Her eyes met his squarely, but then she looked down, unsure again. “I think though...I need to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you have a mark or a scar on your hip? Almond-shaped?”

Bo’s heart skipped a beat. “Yeah, I do. A birthmark. You were always fascinated with it for some reason.”

She fumbled her fork and nearly dropped it to the table as she caught her breath, audibly.

“Erin?”

She closed her eyes briefly, as if working up the courage to speak. Her newly short hair sharpened the angles of her cheekbones and her jaw, making her green eyes and her lips look larger and lusher than before. He’d always loved her long brown hair, wrapping it around his fingers and watching it fall over her shoulders, but he liked this new look, too. How it exposed the long lines of her throat and the curve of her neck and collarbone. The soft flesh of her earlobes.

He grabbed for his coffee, his mouth gone dry.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

She lifted her gaze to his, and this time, it wasn’t veiled or distant, but...there was a spark. She almost smiled.

“I remembered that, then. I remembered...after last night. I remembered a lot. It wasn’t just dreams.”

He straightened, his attention sharpened. “About the fire?”

She shook her head. “No. Not that. Things about you. Like the birthmark. I wasn’t sure if I was just fantasizing, but...apparently it was real. I can’t believe that I really remembered something!”

Paired with the astonished joy in her expression was the rosy flush of embarrassment. Because she was saying that she had remembered them together— having sex. Naked, since she remembered the birthmark.

“You dreamed about me?”

He didn’t mean to ask aloud, but she’d taken him a bit by surprise, too.

Erin nodded. “Before last night, even. And I keep seeing...apples. Like there were apple trees somewhere.”

“We made love in a local orchard once.”

“Wow. That’s...daring.”

He smiled, warmth stirring at the memory. “We were alone. Except for some cows in the next field, but they didn’t care.”

“Where was our first date?”

He couldn’t look away from her. “Here.”

“Oh.”

The significance of her choosing this place tonight seemed to dawn on her.

“So we broke up?”

“We did.”

“Amicably?”

“Mostly, I guess.”

He said the words tersely, unsure what else to say. He wasn’t about to lay himself open for her again, not like this. Not to satisfy her curiosity.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did we break up? Did we have a fight? Did one of us cheat? Step out?”

He shook his head at the unthinkable, but somewhere in his mind, he wondered. They did have some arguments, because he knew—he sensed—that she was keeping something from him over the month or so before their breakup. He never found out what, but he knew she hadn’t been seeing someone else. He was sure of it.

“No, no cheating.”

“Then what?”

Everything inside Bo tensed. He really didn’t want to peel the scab off this wound, but he could respect her need to know.

“I wanted more, you didn’t.”

“More of what?”

“More of you, more than we had. More than you were willing to give.”

“What does that mean?”

“We were seeing each other in secret. We called it being discreet, since we worked together, but when I wanted people to know, you didn’t.”

“Why?”

“You were worried the guys would start to treat you differently. Act differently. That it would affect your work.”

She was quiet for a few seconds, her lips turning downward.

“So this was my fault?”

“It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It just ran its course.”

“Wow, okay. Well. So we’re...friends?”

“No. Last night should have shown you that we could never be friends. We...avoided each other. It was easier when I moved up to arson.”

She nodded, looking uncomfortable again.

“I should go. I wanted to apologize and let you know I know I was wrong, and that you had the right to report what happened. It won’t happen again, if that helps.” His tone was formal, stiffened by painful memories and desire he couldn’t do one damned thing about.

He took out his wallet and paid their check.

“If you do remember anything else, about the fire, that is, please call the office. You can always talk to my assistant if I’m not in.”

He slid out of the booth, heading toward the door. Heard her feet on the tile floor behind him.

She caught up with him outside, before he reached his truck.

“Bo, wait. Please.”

It was still light out as she followed him down the side of his SUV, between the cars.

He turned on her. “I can’t do this, Erin.”

He might as well be honest about it.

“Do what?”

“Talk about old times. Tell you all about us. It’s over, and I can’t see the point in raking back over it.”

“I hurt you.”

She stated it like a fact, emotionless, studying his face. Bo didn’t want her to see, but he supposed that horse was already out of the barn.

“It’s fine. Over and done.”

She put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. For that, and for making you go back over this. From my dreams...from what I can remember, what we had was deep. I can feel it, even if I can’t remember it all.”

Erin stepped in closer. She didn’t look nervous anymore. She was...something else. Bo froze, keys in hand.

“I don’t want to play games. Or be played with,” he said, his voice almost desperate as he swallowed hard, his breath short.

“I don’t want to play games, either. I want to remember,” she said softly, and leaned into him, hips first. Her hands drifted up his torso, over his chest to his shoulders as she pressed in closer.

A second later she was kissing him, and everything else fell away. She dropped gentle, easy kisses along his jaw, as if getting to know it again, mapping him with her lips. He swallowed, turning his face away, trying to get control. To resist. So she burrowed into the hollow of his throat, her tongue darting out to taste him.

He groaned her name. She sighed against him.

“If we parted ways, why does this all feel so right?” she asked, nibbling her way back up to his mouth.

Bo dropped his keys as his arms came around her, and his resolve crumbled, reversing their positions and pressing her into the side of the SUV, his mouth hungry for hers.

He slid one hand up under her blouse, his palm settling over her breast. She arched into the touch, an invitation. If this kept happening, they were going to end up naked in the back of his truck as they had the first time they’d left this diner and couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

“History repeating itself,” he muttered before he sank into another kiss. So much for good intentions.

3

“WE HAVE TO STOP,” Bo said against her mouth, his hands on her shoulders, pushing her away.

Erin’s entire being protested, and she shook her head.

“No.”

Then his big hands were on her face, making her look at him. His cheeks were ruddy, his eyes hot. There was no doubt that he wanted her.

“I’m not going to do this. It’s taking advantage, don’t you get that? You’re not in any state of mind to be making these decisions.”

That riled her. She might have lost her memory, but she wasn’t so incapacitated that she couldn’t decide if she wanted a man or not. Granted, there were a few extra things going on that might influence whether she wanted this man, but still.

She dropped a hand, planted it between them as she closed her fingers around the erection that bulged against his slacks.

“Erin, don’t,” he almost begged, even as he pressed into her.

She took her hand away, shaken by the desperate look on his face. She’d hurt this man, and even if she couldn’t remember it, she was doing it again.

Shame welled, and she stopped touching him, dropping her forehead against his chest.

“I’m sorry. I—I really want you, though. It’s...crazy, but I do.”

“I know. I want you, too.”

“I could tell.”

He bit out a short laugh, his hands still on her shoulders, squeezing lightly.

Her eyes closed, inhaling his scent, feeling the heat of his body, Erin tried to calm her own need, but her mind had different ideas.

“Oh,” she whispered in surprise.

“What?”

“I can almost smell them, the apples. What the heck is it about the apples, Bo?”

Then she knew. As if she’d known it all the time. She pulled back to look up at him. “It was the last time we were together, wasn’t it? The last time we made love?”

His jaw tightened, and he nodded before his head dropped back, staring upward at the sky as he answered. “Yeah.”

The simple confirmation made another puzzle piece click into place. “So this is June...I was out of commission mid-February through April, and we broke up a month before the explosion, you said. January? So how could we have been in an orchard?”

“It was in October. Our last time. Then I left to train for the new job and came back at Christmas. We officially broke up shortly after that.”

Something pulled at the far side of her memory, but she couldn’t reach it and groaned in frustration.

“I can feel it’s all there, like it’s behind a wall, but I can’t get to it,” she said, closing her fists into his shirt, an expression of frustration more than desire this time.

His arms came around her, holding her close.

But it had happened again. Being close to him loosened up her mind, her reservations, or whatever. Memories, no matter how sketchy, started to form. Whatever he’d been to her, it was strong enough to pull her back in a way nothing else had been.

“It’ll be okay, Duck,” he said, and she thought he kissed her hair.

Her head came up quickly.

“Duck. You always called me that. Why?”

Blood raced through her veins, excitement coursing through her as she remembered another small thing.

“You were always hitting your head on the bar above the seat in the hook and ladder, and I had to remind you to duck so many times, I started calling you that.”

His thumb was rubbing over her jaw, a tender gesture in the wake of the passion that had carried them away a few seconds earlier, though that was still there, too.

She measured her words carefully.

“You said you wanted more from me. I want more, too...from you. Now.”

Her eyes met his, and she hoped he knew what she was asking.

Desire flared in the brown depths of his gaze. Of course he knew.

“It’s not a good idea.”

“Why not? Whatever it is between us, it’s the only thing that’s made me remember anything. And if I can remember you, and us, maybe I can remember other things.”

He smiled slightly, a hint of bitterness there as he dropped his hands from her shoulders and moved away, bending to grab his keys from the ground.

“Erin, as much as I’d like to help, I’m not about to sleep with you to see if it can help jog your memory. Thanks anyway.”

She took a step back, giving him some space.

“It’s not like that, not exactly,” she tried to explain, though she supposed it was exactly like that. She did want to use him, in many delightful ways, and if it got her memory back, even better.

“What is it like, then?”

He caught her gaze, and she grimaced in the face of his challenge.

“Okay, yes, it is about getting my memory back. Can you blame me? I want my life back. My work. My sense of damned purpose,” she said in frustration. “But I think there’s more to it than that. For both of us. These dreams...they’ve been with me since the hospital. I didn’t know what they were, but they get stronger, more...insistent. And I can see in your face that...you want me.”

He pulled up straight, his body tensing. “That doesn’t mean I should have you.”

“No, but I think all of this might mean that we left things...wrong. Unsettled. There are still issues between us that need to be...addressed.”

His eyes narrowed, pinning her. “And you think we should address these issues in bed?”

Her cheeks burned, but she didn’t let him put her off. She took a step forward, laid her hand on his chest. “In bed, or wherever else seems right. From what you tell me, and from what I dream about, we weren’t exactly...conventional in our choice of places to have sex. Were there others? Other public places? What did I like, Bo? What did I want you to do to me? I don’t remember...but I want to find out.”

Erin knew she was pushing him, this man she hardly knew, but she also knew it was right. Deep inside, this felt like the right thing to do. She had to get him to see that, to get him past his doubts and uncooperative stance.

“You can’t remember anything. How can you know what you want?”

“I know I want you. It’s one of the few things I do know. It’s not taking advantage, Bo. I’m fully aware of what I’m doing, and what I’m asking for.”

“Do you? Really, Erin? Do you know what you’re asking from me? After you walked away from us? After you were almost killed? You’ve looked at me—or rather, looked past me—for months, like a stranger. Do you really know what you’re asking?”

His expression was fierce, and Erin was nearly knocked out of her certainty by the frankness of his objections. What he said was true. This wasn’t just about her, but she needed to push anyway. She was desperate. He was her only hope to remember anything. To recapture what she once had.

“Maybe it would be different this time. I’m not sure. I only know that I need you, and I think you need me. You said you wanted more from me. I’ll give you anything you want, Bo...whatever you need. If you give me...this. Give me a chance to get my life back.”

He shook his head at her and got into his truck without another word. Erin’s heart, and her hopes, sank. Her eyes burned as he started the engine.

She’d lost. She’d lost Bo and a whole lot more than that.

He sat in the driver’s seat with the engine running, not moving.

She didn’t move, either. Holding her breath that he’d get back out. Change his mind.

He looked out the window at her.

“I’m sorry, Erin, but I don’t think this will work. You’ll need to find another way. From now on, please contact my assistant if you need anything.”

It was all he said, backing up and driving out of the lot.

Erin didn’t realize she was crying until a breeze picked up and made her aware of the cool sting of tears on her cheeks. She got back to her car, sat there until it got dark. She’d taken her last shot and lost. Maybe her memory would come back, and maybe it wouldn’t, but Bo clearly wasn’t going to be part of it.

Maybe Kit was right. Maybe she had to stop clinging to this foolish hope and the past. It really was time to move on.

* * *

BO STARED BLINDLY at the email that filled his computer screen as he sat at his desk the next morning. It was early, and no one was in yet. He hadn’t slept again. Not after hours of self-recriminations about backing away from Erin. It had been the right thing to do, but it wasn’t what he wanted.

This, the content of the email, was supposed to be what he wanted. An offer he’d been working for his entire life—a job with the FBI’s Critical Incident Response Group. He’d helped them a few times as a cop and once recently as an investigator.

He’d use everything he’d ever learned and take it all to the next level. They were asking him back for a final interview, and if it went well, they wanted him to start in August. In Virginia.

He rubbed his hand over his tired eyes, wondering why he didn’t feel happier. This was important to him. Since his uncle had been seriously injured in the Pentagon on 9/11, it was all Bo had lived for. Until Erin.

She had made him believe that he lived for something else. For someone else. For a while anyway.

Erin’s face, her desperation, her crushing disappointment as he’d left the night before, played in his mind’s eye again.

“Damn it.” He closed the email, got up and went to get himself another cup of coffee, and went to check out the morning’s reports, but he couldn’t concentrate.

Could helping Erin remember their past relationship trigger her ability to remember other things, perhaps the fire, or anything she saw that could help them? She’d seemed so sure that being with him would help her remember. Or maybe Bo was finding convenient connections, rationalizations to be with her, when he knew it wasn’t ethical.

He felt like a jerk no matter what he decided. If he did as she asked, he was taking advantage of her situation to have sex with her, no matter how much she said that wasn’t the case. She was desperate to get her memory back, but just because she’d remembered a few tidbits about him―them—it didn’t mean that being with him would fuel any more recollections.

But walking away had been hard. She needed him, and she was right—he needed her, too. He’d tried to pull that need out by the root, but he’d failed. Their last few interactions had proved that.

They’d left things unsaid, and they’d never had any real closure. Maybe that’s why she’d been so difficult to get over, even after all this time. And he wanted her so damned badly. It would be too easy to take what she was offering, and what then?

For her, it was only sex. She wanted him—he knew that, he could feel it. But she was just scratching an itch while trying to get her past back—and if that happened, she’d just remember that she hadn’t wanted him before. Maybe she’d hate him even more for doing this.

Or maybe something would be different? She’d hinted at that. And she did seem...different. Some things were still the same, but there was no doubt that she’d been through a life-altering experience.

Could it have altered what she wanted from life? What she wanted from him?

The chances of her ever going back to firefighting were slim. She had to know that. Even if her memory came back, her physical status after the brain surgeries and her psychological state would all need to be reevaluated. Would the crew trust her as they did before? Could she even walk into a fire, or would she freeze?

He put the reports aside and looked at his computer again. He’d done some research on the brain damage that she’d suffered, and more reading on amnesia. It was a highly specialized topic. There were different forms of forgetting and different reasons people lost their memories.

Erin had what was typically called retrograde amnesia—she’d forgotten everything but her childhood memories up until college. But as Bo read through one particularly interesting medical report online, a theory formed in his mind. He found the number of a psychologist he knew who served the police and the fire departments, and called the number, finding himself on the line with Dr. Newcomb minutes later.

“How can I help you, Marshal?”

“I’m investigating the arson case that killed a fireman in February, and left one with serious brain damage and memory loss. I was wondering if you had a second to answer some questions.”

“I do. I remember the case. I talked with Erin Riley. That’s in the report, so it’s not protected information, though I can’t share any of what we spoke about, of course.”

“Of course. I wanted to ask you about the type of amnesia Erin has. Her neurologist called it retrograde amnesia, caused by the head trauma she suffered, and probably from the brain surgeries, as well.”

“Yes, I recall. I’ve never had a patient with nearly complete amnesia. Is she doing well?”

“I thought you said you were talking to her?”

“Only three times after she left the hospital, and then she opted not to come back.”

Bo smirked. Sounded like Erin. She never did like doctors.

“I was reading up on it on the internet, and I wondered if the neurologist could have had it wrong. I was reading about a kind of amnesia called dissociative amnesia, where she could be blocking something traumatic—something stressful that her brain doesn’t want to remember. Could it be that instead? Do you think she could have seen something at the fire that was so traumatizing that she doesn’t want to remember it?”

“It’s possible, though usually dissociative amnesia wouldn’t be so encompassing. She might block the event, or things related to it, but not her entire life for over a decade.”

“I see. Is it possible to have both? Perhaps the brain damage made what would otherwise just be selective forgetting much worse?”

“Hmm. It’s definitely possible. Why do you think this could be the case?”

“I’m not a doctor, of course, but Erin has been remembering a few details regarding a long-term relationship she had—and she thinks that if she could be with the person in that relationship, she might remember more. Is that possible?”

“It’s a very good sign that she’s remembered anything—that’s promising. It could take days or years, there’s no telling. The brain is unpredictable. But triggers are a key factor—if there’s a strong enough trigger, something so important to her, or so deep in her mind that she’s recollecting it, it’s certainly wise to pursue that. There’s no way to know what or how much she might recall, but it’s certainly possible that opening one strong channel of memory could lead to more recollections. And if she is repressing memories that are too frightening to recall, being with someone who makes her feel safe could help that rise to the surface, as well.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I’ll let her know.”

“Marshal Myers, please tell Erin she’s welcome in my office anytime, especially if she’s going through anything unsettling in this process. I’d love to work with her if she needs more support.”

“I’ll tell her. Thank you.”

Bo hung up, not sure if he should have made an appointment with the doctor. He probably needed his head examined for considering this, but it sounded as though it actually could be possible. That being with Erin could actually bring her memories back.

If that was the case, how could he move on with his life, into his future, and leave her behind without at least trying to help her get her life back, too?

Glancing up as other members of the office arrived, chatter floated in the door, and he smelled fresh coffee brewing. He got up and closed his door, needing to think.

He could potentially help Erin remember—maybe remember everything.

Was he really considering this?

He knew going in this time that there wouldn’t be any real reconciliation. They were still “over”— nothing would change that.

He had other plans, too—the job in Virginia, for starters. He’d be here for only a bit more than two months if he got the job. Less than that, since he’d have to give notice and get someone new to take his place here. His assistant was good, but he wasn’t ready to move up the ranks yet.

So that meant Bo had a month or so, just a few weeks, to cram in as much of their relationship as he could in hopes it might make her remember everything.

He just had to keep straight on the fact that he wasn’t in it this time for the long haul, either. It could be just sex for him, too. A way to get her out of his system?

Closure. A way to leave things better between them than they had before.

It was also a chance to close the case, potentially. Maybe a way to save lives, since they still had an arsonist out there who hadn’t been caught. What if Erin had seen something or experienced something that could help them find the person who had set that fire?

He knew he was talking himself into it, but it also made sense. There were more good reasons to take this risk than not to.

He’d already dialed her number, his phone in hand. He was surprised when she picked up.

“I thought you might not answer.” He didn’t bother with hellos.

“I didn’t see who it was first.”

She sounded tired. And cranky. For some reason, that made him smile. She was always irritable when she woke up.

“I’m sorry I was hard on you last night. Listen, I want to help if I can. Are you free today?”

“Say when.”

Her tone perked up considerably. Bo closed his eyes, steadying his breathing. This felt surreal.

“I’m taking the rest of the day off. I’ve got a few things to sort out. How about if I come by your place later?”

“Okay. I’ll be here.”

She sounded nervous now, too. “I just want to talk, Erin. We need to talk about it...first.”

“Okay. Sure. Good.”

With that, they hung up. Bo packed his stuff and told his assistant to beep him only if there was an emergency. Then he was in his truck, thinking about Erin, wondering if he wasn’t making a huge mistake. It wasn’t the first time he’d done that, and probably wouldn’t be the last.

* * *

KIT STOOD BY the door as she scanned the crowd for Erin’s cap of shiny brown hair. It was hard to see anyone in the busy crowd.

This was the place Erin usually went with her firehouse buddies, so it was where Kit figured she’d find her, but as far as she could see, there was no Erin.

She was doubly disappointed, having needed the break from her own worries. The past few months had been a balancing act, largely tilted to the side of addressing Erin’s crisis, which was obviously huge. But Kit had her own troubles to deal with. Her flower shop wasn’t doing well these days, especially with more people ordering flowers online or getting them at the local grocery stores. She’d been holding it together for a while, but she’d lost one large account last month, and the individual, walk-in business was dropping off, as well. In addition, getting good quality, fair-trade flowers wasn’t inexpensive.

Most consumers had no idea that the flowers they bought at many outlets or online at discount prices were often shipped from countries that farmed the blooms and exploited local people, usually women, to keep prices down and their own profits up. Kit supported only fair-trade suppliers, and that meant her flowers were more expensive than most, but she included fair-trade information with all purchases. She found that her customers liked knowing they were buying flowers that truly helped people instead of subjugating them. But in the troubled economy, being socially conscious was often a luxury.

All Kit had ever wanted to do was run a flower shop. It was her dream, since she was a little girl. She’d worked at one as a teenager, and she used the college money left to her by her parents to open the shop. It had done very well for a while. But times changed, and the internet, recessions and so forth were taking their toll on her dreams.

The shop and her sister were the most important things in her life—they were all she had left. Erin was young when their father had died of a heart attack at the station. He was always at the station. Lived and died there, literally. Their mother was gone eight years later. Erin had been out working on a fire when their mom passed away.

Sometimes Kit felt terribly alone. Feelings weren’t always fair, she knew. Sometimes, they were awful, confusing things. Like when the doctors said that Erin had amnesia and very likely wouldn’t return to firefighting.

Kit had, on some level, been happy about that. It wasn’t very supportive, she knew that, but she was so happy to have Erin around again. But Erin seemed drawn to her old crew, even now. It was like an obsession.

As Kit moved farther into the room, she didn’t see her sister anywhere, and her heart sank. So much for sister time.

“Hey, you’re Riley’s sister...the flower lady.”

Kit turned toward the voice and found a very, very large man standing near a tall table, where he put a beer down and faced her, holding out his hand.

“I’m Hank Aaron.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“No joke, that’s my name. Dad was a huge baseball fan. Mom couldn’t talk him out of it. And you’re...Kathy?”

“Kathleen, but everyone calls me Kit.” She smiled, looking into his face. “Now I remember. We met at the hospital a few times. I’m sorry. I was not quite coherent back then.”

She reached out, shook his hand, which swallowed her own. His skin was rough, but not in an unpleasant way. It scraped on hers and made her wonder how those large hands would feel on the rest of her.

“Understandable. That was hell, waiting to see what would happen, especially for you. Families have it hard in our business. Can I get you a beer?”

She paused, took her hand back. She was going to say no. It was obvious Erin wasn’t here, but then Kit changed her mind as her stomach rumbled.

“That would be nice, thanks. I might order something to eat, too. I was hoping to meet Erin here, but I guess she had other things to do.”

Hank frowned. “Do you think she’s okay?”

“I do. She shut off her phone. She does that when she wants to be left alone. I know what she’s going through is so hard...and I don’t know how to help most of the time. I try to give her space to figure things out, but I’m never quite sure what to do. Or if she needs me for anything at all.”

She failed to keep the slight edge of resentment out of her tone, and Hank noticed.

“I imagine this is difficult for both of you. Riley, um, Erin hasn’t been quite the same since she woke up. We notice it, too. She’s...I don’t know. Like she’s looking for something, I guess. There, and then not there.”

“At least I get to see her more these days. I think you guys knew her better than I did before. She certainly spent more time with you all, and I know being around you now is a comfort to her. But I worry she’s too caught in the past to move forward. She doesn’t like hearing that, as you can imagine.”

Hank drew himself up, all six feet who-only-knew-how-many-inches of him, and looked down at her with calm understanding. How did this big bear of a man come off so Zenlike? As he started to speak, she expected him to make excuses and find some means to escape her dumping all her problems on him. She never did that, not as a habit, and wouldn’t blame him for wanting to get clear of her.

“Have you had anyone to talk to since this happened?” he asked instead.

A beer came, magically appearing in her hand. Hank said something to the woman that she couldn’t hear over the noise.

“I ordered some dinner and got something for you, too.”

Kit was taken aback at his presumptuousness, but then she acquiesced as she knew he meant no offense. And he would know what was good to eat here anyway.

“Thank you.”

“C’mon, the back is quieter. It can get nuts around here on the weekend.”

He led her to a table near the back, pulled out a chair for her and then sat himself. He looked sort of ridiculous at the small tavern table, being lumberjack-sized.

“So you didn’t answer my question.”

“What question was that?”

Kit started to relax a bit. It had been a long time since she’d been out for an evening, even longer since it had been in a bar with any member of the opposite sex. She’d needed a break more than she thought.

“Have you had a chance to talk to anyone about what’s gone on with Erin? The department has counselors for us, and they work with family, too, when it’s needed.”

She shook her head. “I’m fine. I was just ticked off that she stood me up.”

“Yeah, she gets caught up in her head these days. Can’t blame her, but it’s not easy to live with, either. None of this is. Our schedules, lifestyles...it’s hard on loved ones.”

“Yours, too?”

“I’m not married, if that’s your way of asking. Or involved.”

Kit’s felt her cheek warm. “I wasn’t asking, really, that’s none of my—”

“Then it was my way of letting you know.”

Kit stopped, flustered. “Oh. Okay.”

Luckily, the server arrived with their food. Kit was immediately in love—with the chicken.

“Dig in. Don’t be shy.” Hank smiled, triggering another warm curl low in her belly that wasn’t caused by the spicy aroma of the food.

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