The Sheriff's Amnesiac Bride

“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?”