She jumped at the sound of his voice. She’d been so engrossed in her own troubled thoughts, she hadn’t noticed the car stopping. Climbing out of the car, she looked up at the elegant Georgian terrace house. It was lovely but she had no memory of it.
Conan took her arm and led her up the short flight of stone steps. ‘Our home.’
Josie cast him a puzzled glance. He seemed almost triumphant, but quickly her attention was diverted as the door swung open and a grizzled old man beamed at them.
‘Good evening, sir. Madam.’
‘Cut out the act, Jeffrey,’ Conan commanded, with a grin. ‘You haven’t the face for a formal butler—or the accent.’ Turning to Josie, he ushered her into the house. ‘This is Jeffrey. Ring any bells?’
‘No.’ She faced the broadly smiling little man. ‘I’m sorry, Jeffrey.’
‘No need to apologise, Josie. I’m so glad to see you home where you belong—and you look better than ever,’ he told her, still grinning.
Josie immediately warmed to him. She had no memory of him but it did not seem to matter and her answering smile was equally broad. ‘Thank you, Jeffrey.’
Conan reached out and began unfastening the buttons of her coat.
‘You’ll be glad to know your accident achieved what I’ve been trying to achieve for years. That is to persuade Jeffrey to live here. As soon as he heard of your accident he insisted on moving in to the attic rooms.’ He slipped her coat from her shoulders and handed it to the man in question. ‘Jeffrey reckons he’s an expert on amnesia, along with pregnant women and everything else. He told me quite firmly that you cannot be left alone. When I’m at work he will be with you all the time, and act as your chauffeur. No more driving at present.’
‘I’m not sure I can drive,’ Josie quipped.
‘Sensible girl.’ Conan grinned. ‘Stay that way and let Jeffrey show you to our room. You need a rest before dinner. I have some work to do.’
The room Jeffrey took her to was huge and elegant, with a massive double bed that seemed to dominate the room. Off it was a bathroom and a smaller dressing room with a stripped-down single bed that did not look as if it had been used in years. Josie walked back into the centre of the bedroom as Jeffrey reappeared with her suitcase.
‘Would you like me to unpack for you?’
‘No, no, I can do that.’
‘A cup of tea, then? Anything at all?’ he asked.
‘No, thank you. I think I might just have a rest, and then a bath.’
‘Excellent idea, Josie. You must take good care of yourself and the baby—and can I just say how happy I am about the little one?’
Long after Jeffrey had left, Josie lay on the bed, trying to sleep, but was unable to do so. Her mind spun with unanswered questions. Her accident had only been a week or so ago. So how come Jeffrey had not known earlier she was pregnant? She rubbed her swollen stomach tenderly; it must have been pretty obvious. And why, as a pregnant married lady, did the thought of sharing this admittedly luxurious bed with Conan make her feel so apprehensive? She must have made love to him dozens of times before. She had the bump to prove it...
Finally she slipped into a restless sleep, eventually waking to find it was almost dark, with the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. The sound surprised her into sitting up—Jeffrey must have left a tap running. Sliding her feet to the floor, she padded in stockinged feet across to the bathroom door, opened it and walked in. She came to an abrupt halt, her eyes widening to their fullest extent.
‘Sorry, did I disturb you?’
‘Disturb’ did not begin to do justice to the way Josie felt. Conan, obviously having just stepped out of the shower, was standing stark naked in the middle of the room, briskly rubbing his hair with a towel. Her fascinated gaze slid down over his wide shoulders, the broad chest matted with black curls that arrowed down over his flat stomach and bushed out at the junction of his legs. Words failed her at the sight of his manhood, his lean hips and long, tanned, well-shaped legs. Beads of water glistened on his bronzed skin, and she could not tear her eyes away.
‘You’re beautiful,’ she finally murmured. How could she have forgotten such a perfect specimen of masculinity? she wondered.
‘I think that’s my line, Josie,’ he said with a husky chuckle, and, walking towards her, he casually wrapped the towel he had been drying his hair with around his hips.
Not before time, Josie thought, swallowing hard; she was in danger of having a heart attack. Glancing up at his smiling face, she turned scarlet. ‘Sorry. I... I thought a tap was...’ She stopped when she realised she was stammering like an idiot.
‘You have seen me naked before, Josie, I can assure you.’ And, placing his hands on her shoulders, he swooped down and kissed her open mouth. Then, grinning, he straightened up, lightly squeezed her shoulders, and let her go.
‘I didn’t mean to wake you, Josie, but I needed a shower and a shave before dinner. Will you come down for dinner, or would you prefer to eat up here?’
‘No. Yes. I—I’ll come downstairs,’ she stammered, and shot back into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
To her relief Conan did not follow her, but she heard him go into the dressing room. Of course! Where else would he keep his clothes?
Her own clothes, she discovered, when she began unpacking her suitcase, were in the large wardrobe in the bedroom. She eyed the contents and sighed. Nothing jolted her memory; in fact they all looked new. But then why shouldn’t they? They were all loose-fitting or maternity clothes.