A Five-Minute Life

“Sure, Miss Hughes,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Chapter 5

Thea

(five minutes earlier)

I open my eyes for the first time.

A beautiful man sits across from me. Strong and built. His hands are large, his knuckles scarred. His biceps and forearms are cut with lean muscle. He’s wearing white. A uniform?

At the next table sits an old man with a dent in his head.

Am I in a hospital?

Yes, because there was an accident and now I’m back.

Jesus, how long have I been away?

My heart pounds and blood rushes to my ears. My hand is clutching a pen and my knuckles hurt. It’s hard to breathe. There was the accident, and now I’m here in this room. But how long between then and now? How did I get here? How much time have I lost?

“How long has it been?” I ask the beautiful man.

“Two years,” he says in a low voice, almost a whisper. “But the doctors are working on your case.”

He’s right. The doctors are working on my case. That’s one of the Things I Know.

My name is Thea Hughes.

There’s been an accident.

The doctors are working on my case.

This man knew that, which means he must know me somehow. My hands unclench a little.

“Yes,” I say. “They are.”

But two years? God, I’ve been away a long time, but I’m back now. I ease a sigh of relief and the panic ebbs. Still, I can’t find… something. Something is lost and I need to find it. If only I knew what it was.

I find the guy’s nametag. Jim.

Jim is beautiful. And sexy. His sexiness is like a black leather jacket—it makes any outfit look good on him. He doesn’t sprawl in the chair, doesn’t man-spread like he owns the furniture or like he’s commanding the room to pay attention to him. His posture is quiet, arms crossed on the table, shoulders a little hunched. He doesn’t know how sexy he is, which makes him even more delicious. I fight a crazy urge to press my face into the crook of his neck and inhale him. Can’t help it. I haven’t been touched in forever. No sex. No food. No drink. Nothing.

Instead, I offer my hand. Delia is always yapping at me to be polite. And not that I mind touching this guy. “I’m Thea Hughes.”

He sounds almost disappointed as he answers, “Jim Whelan.”

Even his name is sexy. Masculine. Solid. But a softness lurks in him, making him more like a Jimmy than a Jim. I’m about to say so when a sudden, pained look crosses his handsome features and he rises to his feet.

“I have to get to work.”

Disappointment bites me deep. I don’t like being alone. A silence loiters on the outskirts of Jim and me—tight and airless—and it’s so scary.

“Oh. Bummer,” I say casually, hiding my desperation. “Will I see you again?”

Please say yes, Jimmy Whelan.

He hesitates, his dark eyes gazing intently into mine. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but whatever it is, I want him to find it.