“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.