The Unforgettable Husband

‘Carla,’ Nathan corrected.

‘Carla, then!’ he all but snarled. He wasn’t in the mood for all of this. ‘Put her on our payroll. Samantha worries about her.’ And anything—anything Samantha worried about had to be eliminated!

Samantha…

‘Hell,’ he muttered, and slammed down the receiver, then slumped back against the desk to bury his face in hands that were shaking.

Now he’d seen the photographs he couldn’t get them out of his head. The roadside carnage. The twisted wreck of burnt out metal that said more clearly than words what had happened to her.

Then there were the other pictures, ones that came without photographs but were still just as gruellingly graphic, of her waking up in some strange hospital, suffering from shock and pain and a total disorientation with the strange world around her.

And where had he been while all of this was happening?

Halfway round the world on a bloody wild-goose chase!

Now she was sitting upstairs, no doubt waiting for him to continue where he had left off earlier.

Imposing himself on her. Staking his claim. He shuddered and despised himself. He wouldn’t blame her if she’d taken up her own threat and had made another bolt for it.

Oh, dear God. Had she—?

Dragging his hands

away from his face, he looked down at his watch to find he had been gone for almost three hours instead of the two he’d told her he would be.

With a jolt, he sprang forward and made for the door in a hurry. Samantha could disappear into thin air with a few hours to do it in. He should know; he’d had previous experience. The lift took him upwards. He paused outside their suite and took a few moments to smooth out his wrecked emotions before slotting in the access key and quietly opening the door…

CHAPTER SIX

THE suite wore an air of hushed quietness. It chilled his blood—until his eyes alighted on Samantha. She was lying asleep on one of the soft cream sofas, looking as if she had been there for a long time.

Slowly he walked towards her, his footsteps silenced by thick green carpet. The lunch he’d had sent up still sat untouched on the table by the window. He frowned, then deepened the frown when he saw two packs of tablets sitting beside the lunch tray.

Picking them up, he read the labels. One lot of tablets he recognised as the named-brand painkillers she had taken earlier. But he felt his gut squeeze in dismay when he recognised the other as a famous-brand tranquilliser.

Had she taken these? Had she taken all of these? Had he finally managed to drive her into—

His head shot up and round, his eyes locking onto her in a moment of skin-crawling horror.

Then, No, he grimly calmed himself. She wouldn’t be that stupid.

But he found himself checking out the pack and almost sinking to the floor in relief when he discovered none of the tranquillisers missing. Going to squat down beside her, he gazed into her sleeping face. She still looked pale, but some of the strain had eased away.

As if she was able to sense the very moment he came within touching distance, her eyes suddenly flicked open and he found himself gazing into sleepy green.

‘Hi.’ He greeted her softly, aware that he was already on his guard, ready to field a hostile response.

It didn’t come. Instead she simply lay there looking at him as if she was searching for something she needed to see.

Remorse for his earlier behaviour? he wondered. Well, she had it. ‘Sorry things got a bit out of hand before,’ he quietly apologised. ‘Believe or not—’ he grimaced ‘—I am finding this situation as difficult as you must be.’

‘I understand.’ She nodded, then seemed to realise that she was staring and broke the eye contact by sitting and sliding her feet to the floor.

It was his cue to move away, and he did so, having no wish to give her reason to erect her defences yet again. Straightening up, he looked around him for something neutral to say. ‘You didn’t eat your lunch.’ It was all he could come up with.

‘I wasn’t hungry,’ she replied, leaning forward to stroke exploring fingers across her damaged knee.

‘How is it?’