And if it couldn’t be traced…That implied a danger for Dee he didn’t even want to consider.
Jacob tucked her more securely against his chest. He couldn’t stop himself from dropping his head closer and inhaling, tightening his grip and savoring her softness she’d hidden beneath the sweater all day.
If John Smith had wanted her dead, it wouldn’t have been difficult. There must be another answer, and they would find it at the police station.
He would help her through the police procedural red tape in a way her tour bus buddy never could. The Tacoma PD would damn well do their best to find out who this Dee Smith/Jane Doe was. He would make sure of that.
Gently he lowered her to his bed. He draped the quilt over her and stroked the hair from her face. Silky strands slid through his fingers, glistening in the beams shimmering through the skylight. His battered knuckles skimmed petal-soft skin.
A man could lose himself in her softness.
But she needed to remember her past, and he was a man who wanted to leave his behind.
Standing by the lobby coffee machine, Dee sunk her teeth into a cream-filled chocolate doughnut. She would vacuum carpets until the end of time for more of these.
She stared at Jacob through the plate-glass window as he warmed his truck for their trip into town. All faded denim and elemental power, he made her mouth water for more than doughnuts.
Jacob’s deep voice had reached to her through the night, comforting, protecting, wrapping itself around her like the quilt. She might not have always known where she was, but his voice had anchored her as she embraced another snippet of sleep.
Man, she was hungry, ravenous, wide-awake and better rested than she could ever remember feeling. A laugh snuck free. Like that was a stretch given she had a little over twenty-four hours’ worth of memories.
What had he thought as he’d moved her to his bed? The notion of him carrying her was both frustrating and more than a bit exciting.
Putting that first horrible day behind her made the world seem full of possibilities. It was okay to lean on Jacob, just a little. They were only riding into town together.
She watched him prepare the truck. Methodical. Steady. He moved with even-paced determination. He stepped from the cab, leaving the blue Ford running, puffy clouds billowing from the exhaust pipe.
Snow dusted his jet-black hair and shoulders. He really should wear a hat. She almost grabbed one for him, but stopped herself. She could already envision his sleepy-lidded look if she shouted out the door to him like some overprotective mother or schoolteacher.
His arms reached an impossibly long stretch across the windshield to scrape ice. Just below the waist of his navy ski parka, his jeans pulled taut against his backside. Chocolate melted in her mouth, warm and full over her taste buds.
Jacob knelt to disconnect the electrical cord from the block heater and thoughts of long, chocolate-flavored kisses slid away.
Block heater. A unique piece of equipment. The special addition to cold-weather-area vehicles to protect the battery. That wasn’t standard information except for someone who lived in extreme climates.
Yes. She wanted to dance. A real clue. Maybe more would come to her throughout the day. And if she were from this region, that would make locating her all the easier.
Background information. A small bit, but so important to a woman with little enough to call her own, and a driving need to find out if she had a child.
Dee dashed for the door, ready to share her revelation. “Jacob, guess what?”
He turned to her, snowflakes hanging on those long lashes of his. For a moment, no clouds darkened his eyes, just a pale, clear blue for her to fly into.
She forgot how to talk. Thinking became temporarily optional, as well, while she let his eyes glide over her.
Dee cleared her throat. She pointed to the cord dangling from the truck grill. “That’s a block heater.”
He blinked. His blue eyes became moody and impenetrable again. “Uh, yeah.”
“A block heater. I know what it is. I can see one in my head. I have one. I must be from the North, or was at some time.”
A half smile kicked up one corner of his mouth. “Good, good. Go with it. What does the car look like?”
Dee closed her eyes and thought, hard. Squinting though one eye at Jacob, she said, “Brown, maybe?”>“It’s not?”
Did she sound disappointed or was it only his over-active libido leading him into wishful territory? “Given your droopy eyes, you would probably crash before the first kiss, anyway, and wound my ego forever.”
A grin tugged at her full pink lips, which in turn tugged at his self-control. Damn it all, she wasn’t even his type. He usually went for the more chatty, flamboyant sorts who filled the conversation, which left him free to stay quiet.