Out of Uniform (Wingmen Warriors 14)

Her lips pressed tightly together before she blurted, “There’s something you should know.”

More secrets? More obligation. Not a chance. “Hold on. I don’t need your life story or anything.”

She laughed, a high-pitched, nervous sort of sound. “Don’t worry. I’m not likely to spill it anytime soon.”

“Are you in trouble with the law?”

She twisted her wind-raw hands together. “Not that I know of. But I may not be around long.”

“To be fair, this motel might not be around much longer, either.” Selling the place—if he could even find a buyer—was an option, if he could persuade his sister to leave. “Let’s just get through this next batch of tourists.” He leaned forward on the shovel handle. “And no drugs.”

Her nose tipped with an air a mite too haughty for a woman in her position. “Of course not.”

Yet, again, he believed her, with not even one good reason to call upon, and a thousand bad ones telling him she was trouble. “Then that’s all I need to know for now. About the job?”

“I’ll take it. Thank you.” Her eyes met his, lit with hope and gratitude.

Her pretty face shone with a gentle beauty that threatened to draw the air from his lungs more effectively than the biting wind. What the hell had he just done?

Lord, she hoped fate would cut her a break. Dee wrapped the coat tighter around her legs and considered her options.

Jacob Stone’s offer had seemed the perfect answer, but “Mr. Smith’s” fake registration and apparent desertion led her to believe her instincts on men hadn’t been stellar even when she’d possessed a full set of memories to draw upon. God, she was so scared.

What kind of person was she? Someone who stayed in cheap motels with men who slipped away the next morning? She tried to wrap her mind around that image of herself, and it didn’t fit.

Did amnesia change a person’s basic nature? Perhaps.

Hopefully the phone lines would be up soon. She could put in a call to the cops, even if the roads were impassable. Maybe she had a big, fat account full of money somewhere and could spend her hundred dollars without concern while she waited.

Except that didn’t feel right, either. Just as she knew she wasn’t the one-night-stand kind of woman, she also knew she needed to cling to every penny of that hundred dollars.

Taking the job was the best solution for now. Having a plan didn’t stop the fear, but at least her hands stopped shaking.

Dee draped Jacob’s extra coat over her arm and struggled to her feet, hoping her wooziness had fled for good. The mere thought of ammonia made her want to gag. “Okay, Mr. Stone. Point me to the mop and bucket so I can get to work.”

“It’s Jacob. And you should change first.” His gaze lingered a second too long on her dress.

She yanked her coat closed, unsure if she should bristle at his order. The guy did have a way of taking charge. She reminded herself not to be a temperamental ingrate. “Which rooms should I start with?”>The clothes relayed one image, her frail body another, and that haughty Midwestern voice, yet another. His gaze traveled over the woman. Around thirty, medium height. Whispery brown hair trailed her, riding the wind and revealing delicate cheekbones to match those dainty wrists and ankles. Her fresh, heart-shaped face might as well have home fires and bridge club tattooed across her forehead. He could almost smell the cookies baking through the plate-glass window.

She wouldn’t be making cookies anytime soon if she froze to death wearing that neon number.

Who the hell was she? And why did he care?

So her scum boyfriend had ditched her in a hotel, leaving her stranded. It wasn’t Jacob’s problem. She hadn’t even asked for his help. He’d helped her anyway by extending her checkout time until the phones were working again and she could call a friend to pick her up. Problem solved.

Jacob reached for his remote and began easing himself into his chair, which offered him a too-perfect view of the woman collapsing on the top step.

He’d already started toward the door when she jerked upright. She gripped the railing and began heaving onto the snowbank beside her.

Aw, hell. Jacob shrugged out of his sling and into a coat with a wince, grabbing an extra jacket for her. He wrenched open the door. Cold air in front and warmed air on his back vise-locked him until he jerked the door closed. He lowered himself beside her and waited.

Slowly she straightened and grappled in her pocket, pulling free a tissue.

He draped the extra coat over her stockinged legs. “You okay?”

She nodded, dabbing the wadded Kleenex along her mouth like his grandma used to do after a cup of tea. “Thank you. I’ll be all right in a minute.”

Jacob stared down the endless length of the two-lane highway. A familiar truck droned closer, a plow wedge on front. Just like any other day here. Except for the woman beside him. “I’m not so sure I agree. Seems like you have a problem Ms…. What was your name again?”