Only A Memory Away Read online

  He didn’t glance at the lone car in the service station, just kept going, a leather jacket slung over his shoulder.

  Karen was puzzled. Maxwell’s hair had been long and flowing, while this man’s was well above the collar, his longish bangs slicked straight back off his forehead. And the wraparound sunglasses he wore hid his eyes. Still, after furtively examining him a moment, she was almost sure it was Judd Maxwell. The jeans and scarred work boots she couldn’t recall exactly, but she remembered clearly the worn bomber jacket he carried.

  Karen quickly paid the attendant and pulled back onto the deserted, two-lane mountain highway. That long stride of Maxwell’s was eating up the road: he’d gotten farther ahead in a few minutes than she would have thought. She slowed, then carefully pulled off onto the shoulder beside him. But he kept walking. She inched the car along; he kept going. She couldn’t see his head, just the tanned forearms beneath the rolled-up white shirtsleeves. Oh dear, perhaps he was in a trance again. She drove forward ten feet, stopped and rolled down the passenger’s side window.

  When she stuck her head out, the man was obliged to slow down. “Need a lift?” she called, trying to sound friendly and unthreatening.

  Maxwell grimaced and came straight for her. Something in the determined way he moved made her draw back inside. He planted his broad palms on the windowsill and ducked to pin her with a stare.

  Even with the haircut, she recognized the flinty expression and the angular jaw with its two-day growth of beard. This was definitely the juggernaut from the hospital. The opaque dark glasses only heightened his aura of menace. For a moment, she felt just like Janet Leigh facing the threatening state trooper in Psycho.

  “No thanks,” Maxwell said and drew back.

  Karen dismissed her unease with the thought that outward appearances were usually deceiving. She’d had proud clients before who resisted aid when it was first offered. Maxwell was alone in an unfamiliar world, desperately needing her help, and she couldn’t let him walk away.

  “Hot evening,” she said loudly.

  Maxwell paused, one hand resting on the sill as the cicadas thrummed in the trees. Karen felt her damp blouse peel away from the vinyl seat as she leaned forward to try to catch his gaze. “They say it went over a hundred today. Where are you headed?”

  He hesitated, leaned down, solemnly searched her face for a moment. Karen kept her smile pasted on, wondering if she looked as witless as she felt.

  Finally he said, “Silver Creek.”

  “That’s just where I’m going! I live in Silver Creek.” Maybe if she shared something about herself, it would put him at ease. “I work in Granite.” Darn. She wasn’t usually so tongue-tied, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say about herself without revealing her errand. “It’s about, ah, thirty miles from here to Silver Creek.”

  “I know.”

  “You know?”

  Maxwell shrugged. “The road sign, back there.”

  Of course. Karen kicked herself. Maxwell was frowning again. He might not have a memory, but she’d bet he was sharp. She was sure he smelled a rat and was about to tell her to get lost.

  She opened her mouth to wish him a good day, but he opened the door and folded his body into her car. Karen was tall for a woman and found the tiny Festiva a bit confining, but Maxwell’s head positively brushed the roof.

  He’d been sweating in the heat, and a strong, not objectionable, but definitely potent and primitive masculine odor wrapped itself around Karen. His jeans revealed hard, muscular thighs and narrow hips, while his gradually widening chest and broad shoulders outspanned the seat back. He reminded her of an anaconda, six foot two inches of slender bones and rippling muscle.

  She’d never been this close to such a dangerous, and devastatingly attractive, man. She felt woozy, as though his proximity had shot her blood pressure up.

  Definitely not her usual type of client. No siree. Karen resisted the urge to punctuate her thoughts with a whistle. Don’t worry, you can handle it, she told herself as she steered the car back onto the road.

  Straining to sound casual, she asked, “Do you live in Silver Creek?”

  He folded his arms and grunted, looked out the window. The gestures seemed more defensive than threatening. He was probably feeling vulnerable. Perfectly understandable. Karen relaxed a bit. They drove in silence for a few minutes.

  “I’ve lived in Silver Creek all my life,” she ventured. “I don’t remember seeing you around.”

  He didn’t move, didn’t respond. Poor man. He seemed so…alone. There must be some way to get him to talk, to open up and admit he was in trouble.

  She asked him a few more leading questions, but got nowhere, and her frustration grew. She couldn’t just drive him to Silver Creek in silence and let him out to wander off alone again.

  Karen took a deep breath. It might not be the most subtle way to get his attention, but she was fresh out of bright ideas. She took her eyes from the straightaway to watch his averted face. “My name is Karen Thomas. I, ah, don’t know quite how to put this, Mr. Maxwell, but I know who you are.”

  Chapter Two

  “I know who you are, too, Karen Thomas,” Judd Maxwell said.

  Of the several responses she’d anticipated, this wasn’t one of them. The quiet way he said it, and his cold, level gaze, were intimidating. An involuntary shiver crept between her shoulders.

  Karen thought quickly. She was positive she’d never met Judd Maxwell before. He wasn’t the kind of man she’d forget. The answer, therefore, was simple.

  “They told you about me at the hospital,” she said.

  “No, I don’t recall anyone mentioning you.”

  Karen’s brow furrowed. “Then what can you possibly know about me?”

  Judd waved a hand. “Forget I said it.”

  “No. You meant it. Tell me.”

  Judd sighed. “All right. You were born in Silver Creek, though you went away to college. You work for the state social services department, with the public, in a low-paying job. You live at 815 G Street, you’re single and you own a cat.”

  Karen’s head whirled. Was he a mind reader? The ridiculous thought struck her that the amnesia might have given him some strange, telepathic powers.

  Maxwell twisted in the seat to face her. “I knew I’d startle you. Just so you don’t think I’m some kind of stalker, I’ll explain.

  “I’m not in the habit, at least I don’t think I am, of accepting rides from just anyone. So when your car first pulled up, I took a good look. The parking sticker on the back says social services, but there was no reserved slot number and your car is older, so I deduced you’re an underling who doesn’t pull much of a salary. It also figures, if you know who I am, you must be some kind of social worker sent to take me off the hospital’s hands.”

  Karen blushed a little but said, “I’m afraid you’re right on the money.”

  “To even get your foot in the door for a job like that, you’d need a degree. Granite is small for a county seat, and I’d be surprised if there’s a fouryear college within driving distance of here—therefore, you’d have to leave home to attend school. You told me yourself you’ve lived in Silver Creek all your life, so the chances are overwhelming you were born there.

  “As for your address, your purse is open.” He indicated the bag between their seats. “I could have added that you’re very trusting. Anyway, your checkbook is open, too, and I can read the address and phone number on the top check. Yours is the only name printed, so I assume you’re unmarried.”

  Karen smiled. “I thought you knew because I don’t wear a ring.”

  “You’re right. I should have thought of that.”

  “And the last thing you said, what was it? About my cat?” She thought a moment, then pointed to her leg. “The cat hair on my slacks, right?”

  He spread his hands. “You see, there’s no big mystery to it.”

  “I didn’t have time for the clothes brush before I left this mornin
g.” Karen chuckled. After the earlier tension, it felt good, and Maxwell seemed to have thawed out a bit as she’d listened to him with rapt attention. He seemed much more human now, though his powers of observation were impressive.

  “Too bad I can’t work the same magic on myself,” he muttered beneath his breath.

  Karen’s heart went out to him. “I’d like to help you regain your memory, if I can.”

  He shook his head. “I appreciate the lift, and your offer, but no, thanks. I wasted four days in the hospital, hanging on the doctors’ assurances they could help me remember, and that was long enough. I’ve got a strong feeling I’ll do far better on my own.”

  “But where are you going to stay?”

  “I’ll find someplace, and the more I see of the country, the better chance I’ll have of jogging my memory.”

  Karen glanced at him and saw an urgent light in his eyes. It seemed like a stupid question, but growing frustration prompted her to ask it. “What’s your hurry?”

  Judd didn’t answer immediately. Without appearing to, he took a few moments to study persistent Karen Thomas more closely. The red curls were slightly damp about her rounded face, but she was surprisingly pretty, fresh and enthusiastic considering the oppressive heat, which would have wilted most women. His first impressions of her character were that she was a softhearted and feminine woman, a do-gooder by choice, motivated by what was probably an inborn desire to help other people. He still thought that, but he wondered now if she wasn’t also more intelligent, more perceptive, than he’d judged at first. And that meant it was time to get rid of her.

  He clenched his teeth as the driven feeling pressed on him again. He must recover his memory as quickly as possible. What fueled his apprehension, he couldn’t say. It might be something very innocent, or he might be in some kind of terrible fix. And as well as wanting to avoid government programs and entanglements that would only slow him down, he suddenly didn’t want to see this kind and eager woman get into trouble.

  He made his tone curt, designed to wound. “My business is my own, lady. Keep your nose out of it.”

  Conscience pierced him as her wide, beautiful green eyes grew luminous. She blinked once, then amazingly, opened her mouth to argue.

  “We’re at the city limits now,” he growled, cutting her off and yanking away his seat belt. “Let me out here.”

  Karen shut her mouth, grimaced, but found she couldn’t disobey the force of Judd’s command. She pulled into the parking lot of the Creekside Diner and stopped.

  “Thanks for the lift.” He didn’t sound the least bit thankful as he opened the car door.

  “Why don’t you let me buy you something to eat.” She reached out to touch his sleeve. “You must be hungry.”

  “No.” He shrugged her hand off like a gnat and climbed out.

  “What’s wrong? Did I say something to offend you?”

  He pivoted impatiently, the door between them. “No, of course not.”

  She suddenly wanted to cry in frustration. She had rushed into this assignment with misplaced confidence, and now she was making a hash of it. For a few minutes, she’d thought they were establishing a rapport, and now he couldn’t wait to get away from her. Nothing in her training had prepared her for this. She’d never felt so incredibly off balance as she had since picking up Judd Maxwell. And if she let him go now, she’d never know if he became reunited with his family, or wound up on the streets, or what had happened to him!

  “Let me at least buy you an iced tea or a soft drink or something,” she said, grasping at straws, no longer trying to hide her desperation. “You’ll get dehydrated walking in this heat, otherwise, and it won’t take long.”

  Maxwell scowled. She couldn’t tell if he was annoyed, or shamed that he’d brought her close to tears, or both. But as he reluctantly nodded assent, it didn’t matter.

  She beamed, and he held up a warning palm. “Just one drink, then I’ll have to be on my way. I’ve got important business in Silver Creek.”’

  KAREN HAD NEVER DINED with a wooden Indian before, but she guessed there was a first time for everything.

  It was blissfully cool in the air-conditioned restaurant. Though it was located on the edge of town, good cooking made the diner a popular spot with locals, and many of the seats were taken. At their window-side table, well-worn but clean venetian blinds kept the glare from Karen’s eyes. A fly, buzzing against the glass, was exhibiting more personality than her companion.

  His pronouncement that he “had business” in Silver Creek had astounded her, and she’d blurted out a hopeful “Is your memory returning?”

  She’d gotten nothing for her hopefulness but a curt “No.” And guessing at the pain that might underlie the surliness, she hadn’t pressed him further. He had, more than likely, made up the business line as an excuse to get away from her as soon as they finished their drink.

  But much as she wanted to be understanding, she was getting tired of Judd Maxwell sitting across from her behind his shades, ignoring the menu, obviously determined to ignore her also. She wondered if he’d eaten anything since lunch. He had walked about eight miles from the center of Granite to where she picked him up. After a long hike in the heat, he had to be famished.

  She sat forward and casually offered to buy him dinner, but he proved, not surprisingly, stubborn. There was one tactic that had worked on him before, maybe she should try it again.

  “Please, I’m really hungry,” she fibbed. “I’ll be too embarrassed to eat by myself if you don’t order something.”

  Maxwell expelled his breath in a long gust, jerked off his glasses and picked up the plastic-covered menu.

  She noted his eyes were steel gray, complementing the austere planes of his bearded face. She frowned to herself; to find a harder man, she’d need a police lineup.

  She started to lift her own menu, then realized his expression was changing. His dark brows bunched together, forming lines on his forehead, and he swallowed.

  “Anything wrong?” she asked.

  He cleared his throat. “Not really.”

  Curious, she watched him impatiently scan the bill of fare. Wasn’t this coffee shop good enough for him? What was he used to, nouvelle cuisine? Her patience with him had reached its limit.

  “There’s a lot there,” she said, “surely you see something you like.”

  He cleared his throat again, then squeezed his forehead between thumb and index finger in a gesture of exasperation. When he looked up, there was a startling uncertainty in his eyes. “What are you having?”

  Karen caught her breath. It was the menu. He couldn’t make sense of it. He couldn’t remember.

  A lump formed in her throat “Um, I’ll have a hamburger. I think you’d like them.” She smiled for him. “Besides, anything you order here has got to be better than hospital food.”

  He shifted in his seat. “I can picture clearly everything on the page,” he assured her, then added more softly, “I’m just having some difficulty remembering what I like.”

  When their plates came, Karen let him eat in peace. She wanted to ask him what business he claimed to have in Silver Creek, and a few other things, but she decided it would be best to let him enjoy his meal. He had excellent table manners and didn’t scarf like a pig, but he didn’t waste a bite, either. She’d been right that he was hungry.

  When she looked up later, she caught Judd Maxwell watching her. He’d finished his burger and was leaning back in the chair, quite obviously assessing her. His eyes were narrowed and had deepened from battleship gray to something darker and sexier. They traveled slowly up from her hands, which rested on the table’s edge, to her forearms, to her breasts beneath the green silk blouse…

  She felt her nipples harden, and quickly shifted her gaze to the salt and pepper shakers, hoping she didn’t look as flushed as she felt. There was no denying she was turned on by him—he exuded masculinity. But why he was responding to her this way confused her. The men she dated enjoyed
her ready sense of humor, and she realized that with her stable, giving nature she was often taken for granted. But she couldn’t remember once receiving an appreciative stare like this one. Since she was a youngster, she’d been referred to politely as a “big girl” and, except for her proportionately large bosom and the rich auburn of her curly hair, men had never given her much of a second look.

  When she dared to glance at him again, Maxwell had closed his eyes. It was a rare moment of repose; the sharpness had gone, and beneath the bad-boy slickness of his mahogany hair, his features were strong and handsome. His beard was a shade lighter than his hair, growing out fast to cover his upper lip and jaw but shaved clean around his neck. She loved beards but had never felt one. Were the short, curling hairs wiry or silky? She wished she could reach out and touch. And now, though Vivian and she had only joked about it, she really wished she knew if he was married.

  “Can I get you anything else?” the waitress asked.

  “No, ah, I think we’re done,” Karen mumbled. “Do you want anything else, Judd?” It was the first time she’d called him by his first name. It made her feel oddly self-conscious.

  He shook his head no.

  The gangly waitress looked about eighteen. Her blond ponytail swung as she turned to Judd. “I haven’t seen you in here in a while, Judd,” she said. “Been busy at the station?”

  Judd shot forward in his chair, jarring the table and sloshing his water glass. “You know me?”

  The girl looked down, startled at the intent gaze that bored through her. “’Course. I’ve waited on you once or twice, don’t you remember?”

  “When?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve only been here four months. Why are you looking at me so strange?” She took a step back.

  “I’m sorry.” Judd shook his head in apology. “You mentioned a station?”

  “Yeah, the Chevron station uptown. I thought you worked there.”

  Maxwell glanced at Karen. There were two Chevrons in Silver Creek; Karen never frequented the one on North Main, because it was out of her way, but she knew exactly where it was. She nodded at Judd.