The P.I.

“Which I wasn’t able to do—and now your friend is the prime suspect in all of this.”

Stopping, he framed her face with his hands. “That’s not your fault. You came to me and I am helping and we’re going to get to the bottom of this.” He trailed his hands down her arms and up again, then drew her close. “So to summarize, the odd details are—the bride and groom didn’t elope. But the tote full of money isn’t so odd if it was getaway cash, and neither is the fact that you had my card and flagged a taxi to bring you to my office.”

“What is odd is that I ended up with the money.”

“Agreed. Maybe after you contacted me, we were supposed to use it in some way. They had no way of knowing you were going to be in an accident and lose your memory.”

“They could be waiting for us right now.”

He pulled her closer when she tried to draw away. “You’re going to remember.” Then suddenly he stopped dancing. “It’s also odd that you ended up with the wedding dress. Why wasn’t the bride wearing it? Or why didn’t she at least take it with her?”

They both glanced to where the dress bag was laying across the back of a leather couch. Then Kit continued, “You know, you haven’t parted with that since this whole thing began. You wouldn’t leave it at my office or at the restaurant.”

Sliding his hand down her arm, he drew her with him to the couch. “Do you want to do the honors?”

Drew nodded. Her heart was beating fast as she unzipped the bag and carefully lifted the dress out. “Look at the bead work. This is all done by hand. This dress must have cost a small fortune.”

The dizziness hit her the moment she ran her hands over the tiny pearls that were sewn into the lace. The same piano music was playing, the same scene floated on the air, and she saw the young couple she’d seen before holding hands and staring at a mannequin that was wearing a beaded dress. She could make out other things—glass cases filled with scarves, more dresses hanging from individual racks. Then the young woman turned to her and said, “We love it.”

Drew felt something like joy move through her and then the image abruptly faded. When she opened her eyes, she saw that she was sitting on the couch with the dress draped across her lap, and Kit was seated on the glass-topped coffee table, holding her hands.

“What did you remember?” he asked.

“It was a shop. You were right about that. They came into a shop and they liked this dress. Not the wedding dress, but it had the same kind of bead work. Loved it. And I felt wonderful. Maybe I sold it to them. The dress must have been expensive. All those pearls are sewn in by hand.”

“I’ve got an even better theory.” Releasing her hands, Kit carefully picked up the dress and showed her the label.

“Designs by Drew. I’m betting you created it.”

16

Saturday, August 29—morning

“THIS IS THE THIRD STORE,” Kit said. They’d arrived at Pier 39 in the Fisherman’s Wharf area at eleven and begun threading their way through the levels crowded with tourists. The sun was pouring down and glinting off the water in the bay. Before that, they’d stopped at the hospital and learned that Roman was in surgery. Drew had wanted him to stay at St. Jude’s, but he couldn’t ignore the feeling that they were very close to discovering who Drew was.

“MsFit,” Drew said. “Nice name, but I don’t recognize it.”

Because he could see the tension in her shoulders and feel the nerves radiating off of her, Kit ran a hand down her arm from shoulder to wrist. “Look in the window and see if anything looks even vaguely familiar.”

“This is like looking for a needle in a haystack,” she complained, but she did what he asked.

Kit could understand why she was a bit discouraged. So was he. The excitement they’d felt when they’d discovered the label in the wedding dress had faded when they hadn’t been able to find a listing for Designs by Drew in either the white or the yellow pages, or even one hit on the Internet.

Just a minor setback, he’d assured her. They just had to find the shop that she’d remembered. Together they’d scoured the phone book, making a list of department stores, specialty boutiques and dress shops that carried high-end items. “We’ve got a plan,” he’d said as he’d carried her off to bed.

In the morning light, he realized that the task was a daunting one. His best hunch was that they would find their needle in a haystack here in the pier area because they’d been close to it when Drew had had that memory flash. Plus, the back of his neck had been tingling ever since they’d arrived.

“See anything?” he asked.

“No. The customer here is older. Look at the dresses. They’re very matronly. This isn’t a shop that a young couple would have come into.”

“You don’t want to go in?”

She met his eyes squarely. “No. I’m not going to give you an opportunity to buy anything else for me.”

He took her hand as he studied the store map. “Okay. The last store is on the top level. It’s called Prestige Designs.”

“You’re not buying me anything else there, either.”

“Okay.”

Drew sent him a sideways glance as he guided her up the stairs. “You say that, but I don’t trust you. If we go in, something will catch your eye just like it did in the first two stores. Men aren’t supposed to like to shop.”

“Is that like the ‘real men don’t eat quiche’ thing?”

“Yes.”

“You agreed that you needed clothes, so I bought you some.”

She held up a finger. “Clothes, yes. One outfit. That was the plan and that’s what I agreed to. I didn’t need the other things.”

It hadn’t taken her long to select the sundress and the strappy sandals, and she’d worn the entire ensemble out of the first store with the clothes she’d borrowed from Philly neatly folded in a shopping bag over her arm. She might not remember who she was yet, but she hadn’t forgotten her sense of style. He doubted that she wore anything quite as plain as Philly’s jeans and T-shirt even on a casual Friday.

“I told you. I bought the hat and the sunglasses because I don’t want you to be too recognizable. Our friends in the van are still looking for you, and they may have your purse. While it’s highly unlikely they’d be here, I’d like us to be prepared.” He checked his mall map and then spotted the sign he was looking for. “And you agreed.”

“To the hat and the sunglasses,” she said as they stopped in front of a display window. “But I didn’t need earrings and the scarf.”

He flicked the cascade of gold circles dangling from one of her ears. “They were gifts. If you don’t like them, you can always take them back.”

She frowned, fingering the scarf that she’d tied around her waist. “I like them. You know I do. I was practically drooling over the earrings, and the scarf adds just the right touch to this outfit. But they weren’t necessary.”

Unable to resist, he drew his finger along her jawline. “My practical Drew.”

She let out a huff of breath. “Maybe I am practical. One of us has to be. These are not inexpensive shops. And I don’t even know if I’ll be able to pay you back for the clothes.”

“I’ll be happy to extend you credit over time. I’ll even offer you my five-year plan at an all-time low percentage rate.”

She fisted her hands on her hips, but Kit saw her lips twitch. “You are an impossible man to argue with.”

“I do my best.” He slipped an arm around her and turned her toward the display window of Prestige Designs. “Let’s just look in the window.”

She did as he asked, studying each item on display with that total concentration that was so characteristic of her. While she did, he dialed St. Jude’s hospital and learned that Roman was still in surgery. He would be all right, Kit assured himself.

As if she could tell exactly what he was thinking, Drew slipped her hand into his. Then she suddenly went rigid. Quickly, he scanned the items in the shop window. One headless mannequin wore a pair of long silky pants with a sequined top. Another wore a white gauzy, three-tiered skirt with an embroidered shirt. Kit felt the prickling sensation at the back of his neck.

“It’s the shirt, isn’t it?” he asked. “I’ll bet the pieces you design all have something fancy like that—embroidery, beads. It’s probably your signature.”

“I’m not sure.” She pressed a hand against her stomach. “I didn’t feel anything when I first looked at it, but my eyes just keep going back to it.”

“Let’s go in and get a closer look.” He took her hand in his and drew her through the glass doors of the shop.

IT WAS ALL DREW could do not to dig in her heels when she heard the music. Piano music. The flowery, cloying scent was there, too, and she realized that it was coming from a display of bottles on a glass-topped counter. The sign read Flair, Prestige Design’s signature scent.

“I’m right here.” Kit squeezed her hand.

Despite his denials about being psychic, she was beginning to think that the man could read her mind. Sweeping her gaze around the interior of the store, she took in the mannequins, the individual racks that showcased one or two dresses.