Remember Love

By M. Frances Smith

Bay Camber, successful owner of a dude ranch, rode away from her ranch in the middle of the night and suffered an accident that robbed her of her memories. Now, as she struggles to remember her friends, and the man who claims to love her, she will follow a dark trail back to the night of her accident. And stalking every step are secrets she must reveal, and the danger from which she fled. Will death catch up to her before she can remember the love she forgot?

• Language: English
• Publisher: M. Frances Smith
• Release date: Oct 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311361202

M. Frances Smith

I read, I write, I work, I ride (horses). I walk and talk in my sleep. Now if I could write in my sleep I'd get so much more done!

Book preview

REMEMBER LOVE

By

M. Frances Smith

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 M.F. Smith

License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

ONE

She didn't open her eyes. Not even when the cool touch of a damp cloth dabbed her forehead and cheeks. If she opened her eyes she would see him.

The man who said he was her lover, seated on the edge of her hospital bed where he had managed to be every time she woke from fevered dreams.

She had no sense of the passage of time, but he told her that nearly one week had passed since she was delivered to the small hospital. She wondered when he slept, for he seemed to be at her bedside constantly.

Nurses commented on his attentiveness when they were outside her door where they thought she couldn't overhear their covetous remarks. She heard them, however, because she listened anxiously for any news about who she was and how she had come to be in this hospital room

Bay?

His voice contained a subtle southern drawl, as though he'd spent many years away from the South or intentionally attempted to repress the accent. Its husky tone flooded her veins with heat and her heart tripped wildly. Without meaning to she inhaled sharply then cursed herself because he would know she was awake. Slowly she allowed her eyelids to slide upward.

Seeing him so near to her affected her so profoundly that she had to concentrate on appearing unafraid so she would not shut her eyes again. A little more than six feet tall, his wide shoulders and piercing coffee colored eyes managed to frighten her even though he did nothing more than smile down at her. His sable colored hair was pulled back from his ruggedly attractive face with a leather thong, but a few stray strands escaped and hung appealing over his forehead.

He appeared to be in his late thirties and he had told her about the highly successful vacation ranch they co-owned. His name was Travis Stoddard, but even though he assured her they knew each other intimately, neither his name nor face stirred familiar feelings.

To prove to her that he knew her the way he attested, he described a small mole and a tiny scar on her body, both in places only a lover might discover them. Realizing she was probably his lover, as he declared, stunned and embarrassed her. Knowing he still remembered intimate details about her, about them, while he was a stranger to her was disconcerting.

To think she'd fallen in love with this rugged, dominant man was inconceivable to her...and what did he see in her?

She had examined herself in a hand mirror once, when he had left the room. She didn't know how tall she was, but the lithe, unfamiliar body seemed petite, almost fragile. She doubted her head would reach his shoulder. Luxuriant hair the color of dark chocolate roiled in heavy curls that hung past her slim shoulders. Clear green eyes and pouting lips were set invitingly in a cameo face. The color of her skin spoke of long days under a kindly sun or else some sort of mixed ethnic background, American Indian perhaps.

She looked at herself the way she would look at an attractive woman...a woman who was a stranger to her. Amnesia was like standing in the middle of a labyrinth without knowing how you got to the center.

Her doctor assured her that amnesia due to a head trauma such as she had experienced was usually transitory. He told her that the lost memories could come back piece by piece, or they could be triggered by a smell, a color and all flood back in an instant. He expected her to make a full recovery, but urged her to be patient with herself and not push for answers.

Mornin' darlin'. How are you feelin'?

His whiskey baritone sent a shiver down her spine, and Bay examined his sensual mouth as it curved vaguely at the corners.

A little ache here and there, she admitted, struggling to sit up farther in the bed. Travis immediately moved to raise her pillows and assist her efforts. Thank you, she said politely, impersonally. She was aware that her automated response drew a shadow across his warm brown eyes, as if it hurt him a little.

She watched him carefully, struggling to feel something for him. She wondered why she found nothing about him familiar; not his clothes, not the way his wide, strong hands carefully smoothed the blanket over her legs...nothing. Shouldn't she feel some sense of déjà vu at least? If they knew each other in the manner he insisted, shouldn't her instincts tell her the same even if her memories did not?

Please, she begged silently. It wasn't enough for him to tell her about their business together, their love for each other. There was too much she didn't know, too much she needed to know, and more that she needed to feel.

He had tried to help her; bringing pictures of the ranch, the people who worked for them, them together. Some of the pictures were of a lovely young woman with long blonde hair that hung straight past her slender shoulders.

Travis told her the woman was Bay's best friend, Brier. She lived on the ranch and worked in the kitchen as their Master Chef and Coordinator. Her hopes were dashed as picture after picture failed to retrieve a memory from the murk that was her past. Even her own name, Bay Camber, was only another puzzle she couldn't fathom.

How is your head? Travis inquired solicitously. I see they took off the turban.

Last night. She smiled stiffly at his attempt at humor. I must look like hell.

Not at all, he said softly, reaching out to touch her cheek. Bay drew back reflexively and saw a tiny stab of pain in his eyes at her involuntary rejection of his touch.

Sorry, she apologized.

It's okay, he assured her. I understand how hard this is for you. It'll come back in time. The Doc told me you might take a sniff of Brier's cooking and have it all jump out at you like a cat out of a closet. The man grinned broadly. More likely you'll take a sniff of manure and remember it all.

I hope so. Then she frowned prettily. Not that I’m looking forward to sniffing manure.

Can I get you anything?

Her eyes left his to roam the variety of colorful floral arrangements and ornate, gaily wrapped gift baskets decorating the little room. They were sent with sympathy and best wishes from names she didn't know, but who were obviously people who knew her, and who cared. The flowers began arriving the night she was admitted, and had not stopped. The room was rapidly becoming inundated with good thoughts from people she couldn't remember.

A bigger room? she joked. The nurses have been complaining that they're running out of places to put things.

The ranch is roomy. Travis' piercing eyes watched her closely for her reaction.

Oh my God! She shrieked inwardly. He's talking about going home! Her hands clutched at the thin coverlet separating her body from his. She didn't even know where home was, the hospital room was the only familiar thing in her life. And how could she go home with this man whose simple presence made her pulse race out of control? What would he expect of her once they were at the ranch?

They're releasing me? she asked, once she was certain her voice wouldn't crack.

Doc says you're free and clear by noon. His smile was encouraging.

She wanted to accept the comfort he was offering, but her imminent release loomed too large and distressingly dark. She wanted to tell him no, make some excuse. She needed time to adjust to the idea of going home with this man. The thought of cohabiting with him frightened her for no reason she could accurately express, except that she didn't know him.

Yet she did know him, that much was obvious from the pictures. Many times she was nearly obliterated by his arms, her undeniably happy eyes shining into the camera. Still, she couldn't help wondering why none of the people who had sent the flowers and baskets bothered to visit. Was it because the doctor was concerned about her mental health—or was it because Travis was such a controlling personality that he refused to allow her any other visitors?

She searched his frank, somehow honest face and read many things there; confidence, concern for her, perhaps a little arrogance. Between those things and the sheer presence of the man, she could see that he might intimidate others. He intimidated her, that was certain.

What was he like in bed? What did it feel like to have those brawny arms hold her comparatively tiny body next to his muscular frame? She trembled at the thought. What had they done together? She didn't doubt that he was capable of raw passion, and a man like that undoubtedly drew equal passion from his partner.

I wish you wouldn't do that, he said quietly.

What?

Look at me that way. Like you're looking at someone who frightens you.

Suddenly she couldn't catch her breath. The intensity of his eyes seemed to draw the air from the room and raise her temperature until she thought she might suffocate.

"You do frighten me," she hated the admission even as she made it.

Bay, her name seemed to catch in his throat and he stopped himself from saying anything more.

He reached toward her face, but suddenly clenched his hand and drew back. The air felt charged with urgency and Bay nearly cried out at the hunger for her in his eyes. He rose from the bed and paced the room several times, reminding her of a caged animal. His magnetism was like that, his attraction wild and barely contained, but contained for her sake. She suddenly realized that despite his commanding presence she had control of him through his devotion to her.

Whenever I'm here I want to hold you in my arms, he finally confessed, his back to her. "I reach for you and you recoil like I'm some kind of monster. I want to kiss you so badly...and I can't even touch you. He faced her then, and his agony showed in his tormented eyes. I want you back with me, Bay. I'm not whole without you."

I'm sorry, she whispered, tears trembling at the edges of her eyes. "I just can't remember."

Bay, he whispered back, crossing the distance between them in two easy strides. He leaned over her and briefly brushed his lips against hers. Her breath caught in her mouth, tasting his breath too. I'll be back at noon to pick you up, he told her, then he was gone.

She suddenly felt as though she had been cast adrift, and the man who had walked out the door was the safe harbor she needed to return to. She was surprised when she actually opened her mouth to call him back, then closed it again thinking of his lips on hers. She couldn't deny the restrained passion she had felt from him, the passion she felt in return no matter how much she tried to deny it.

Why did she want to deny him? If he was her lover, her partner, why was she so afraid of him? It wasn't simply that she couldn't remember him...or was it? She felt terribly vulnerable in his presence, knowing he remembered everything and she did not. Perhaps that was enough to make her want to distance herself from him.

She couldn’t deny his affection for her, it showed in every gesture he made. Several of the flower arrangements were from him, even though one would be enough. When she needed the smallest thing, a pillow, a book, he immediately brought it to her. He adjusted her bed until she was comfortable, sneaked in tasty contraband when she casually remarked that hospital food lacked flavor. In every way he was a solicitous and caring individual.

Still, did she love him? What sort of woman was she, who would attract so strong a man? Was she demure and refined? Was it her feminine grace and graciousness that had stood as counterpoint to his rugged manner? Or was she his equal in fierce independence and love of the rough outdoors? The pictures showed her riding horses and enjoying Nature, but were those moments concessions to his preferences or by her own choice?

Patience, the doctor told her over and over.

She nearly sobbed in frustration and despair. She lay her head back on the fat pillow and turned to look at the plain clock on the opposite wall. Noon would come all too soon.

Lunch was an unappealing chicken salad sandwich that she waved away, concentrating on dressing and packing the few belongings Travis had brought her from home. Their home, she reminded herself, and the knot of apprehension in her stomach tightened. Despite the scarcity of items to pack, the process was excruciatingly slow in her hands.

Her unwillingness to surrender the relative security of the familiar hospital room made everything she did lethargic to the point of slow motion. She wondered if there was some way she could stay longer, some complaint she might voice that would encourage the doctor to retain her for further observation.

But even as she considered the lies she abandoned them as childish and cowardly. Something in her told her she was not the kind of person who resorted to fabrications even to save face. In fact, something in her recoiled so violently from lying that she decided she must hold honesty in high regard.

She put these thoughts aside finally, slipping out of the simple white cotton nightgown Travis had brought her and placing it in the overnight bag. She slipped a tight, white, sleeveless T-shirt over her head and wondered if she was the type of person who never wore a bra, since Travis had not brought her one. She hoped not. Although her breasts were not overly large, they were ample. The fabric snuggled provocatively over her, accentuating their curves only too well.

The faded denim jeans she slipped on were not baggy, but they were also not so tight as to constrict movement. Working jeans, she decided. Practical yet functional in public. She was grateful to find an oversized blue work shirt and slipped it on over the revealing T-shirt. She had expected him to bring her some sort of cowboy boot to wear, but a pair of comfortable hiking type shoes awaited her.

Now, you'll be careful not to overdue it, don't push yourself too hard to remember? a nurse cautioned when she stopped at the reception desk to sign the release forms.

I'll make certain she behaves herself, a gently accented male voice assured her from behind her, and Bay slowly looked over her shoulder.

He still wore the faded jeans from his earlier visit, but a cable knit sweater replaced the button down shirt. The heavy knit of the sweater increased the impact of his upper body, emphasizing the narrowing at his waist.

He smiled at her scrutiny, and Bay looked away, interested in the predatory manner with which the nurse eyed the man. The woman was obviously fascinated by his rugged charisma.

Bay wondered if most women looked at Travis Stoddard with such obvious lust? Was she going to have to deal with enterprising women as well as amnesia? Travis leaned forward and brushed his lips against her cheek.

Silver's outside.

Silver?

His smile widened. You'll see. Maybe he'll jog your memory.

He must have sensed or saw her apprehension, for his soft eyes clouded as he