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Heavenly Husband
Carolyn Greene
“I’ll make two promises to you, and I’ll keep them both.” (#uec13e8a1-0341-593e-af56-2bd24d73310a)Letter to Reader (#ubcef3d6b-2f3a-5618-b35e-e46b38d746e2)Title Page (#u7c1addd6-e0db-5c15-9ee8-771867b2163a)Dedication (#u18801793-18eb-5f54-a7f1-5100cd3ed044)PROLOGUE (#u33b7bb5a-b038-5725-9879-5814fd9418ef)CHAPTER ONE (#u9130522b-3ba0-5df0-8307-e9d4ffa01302)CHAPTER TWO (#u36e21098-9d87-5cdd-8adc-a47805152f5c)CHAPTER THREE (#u0a802963-472e-5311-9d26-cd97e675ef3b)CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
“I’ll make two promises to you, and I’ll keep them both.”
When Kim tried to turn away, Jerry touched her chin, urging her to look at him fully. “First, I promise you that I am not your ex-fiancé, nor will I ever hurt you the way he did. My second promise...” he drew in a lungful of air “...is to watch over you and protect you. I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
Kim suddenly wanted to lighten the mood. “That’s what guardian angels are for,” she joked, fingering the gold pin on her blouse.
“That’s exactly it!” he insisted proudly. “I’m your guardian angel.” And before she could protest he pulled her into his arms.
Dear Reader,
Remember the magic of the film It’s a Wonderful Life? The warmth and tender emotion of Truly, Madly, Deeply? The feel-good humor of Heaven Can Wait?
Well, we can’t promise you Alan Rickman or Warren Beatty, but, starting in June in Harlequin Romance
, we are delighted to bring you a brand-new miniseries: GUARDIAN ANGELS. It will feature all of your favorite ingredients for a perfect novel: great heroes, feisty heroines, breathtaking romance, all with a celestial spin. Written by four of our star authors, this witty and wonderful series will feature four real-life angels—all of whom are perfect advertisements for heaven!
We’ll be bringing you one GUARDIAN ANGELS romance every other month.
Heavenly Husband
Carolyn Greene
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
With many thanks to Kim Barnes for inspiring
me to write this book
PROLOGUE
KIM had always imagined that when you broke up with someone there would be screaming involved...from at least one of the two parties. And maybe some china thrown for dramatic effect.
The real thing turned out to be nothing like that. Somehow, she just couldn’t dredge up the energy to raise her voice. She felt dead inside, as dead as the love she’d once had for Gerald Kirkland. As for the china, she liked the blue-and-white pattern of the set that had once been her mother’s—the set her father had given her in anticipation of her upcoming marriage to Gerald. The delicate pieces were too precious to be wasted on the likes of him.
As for her fiancé—former fiancé—he was taking the news in a manner that suggested she’d just told him there was a power failure and they’d have to eat out tonight.
Kim moved to the door and held it open for him. “If you’ve forgotten anything, I’ll pack it up and send it to your apartment.” The thought flitted through her mind that she could burn anything he left behind or get rid of it in a garage sale, but, for now, she hurt too much to let her thoughts linger on revenge. All she wanted was to get him out of here—out of her house, out of her life, out of her mind, and mostly out of her heart.
Gerald bent to pick up his briefcase, the movement causing his biceps to bunch under the starched white shirt. Then, in a gesture that came more from habit than from intent, he leaned toward Kim as if to drop a casual kiss on her cheek. When she drew back, he seemed to realize the foolishness of his action.
“This is a big mistake,” he said. “You’re jumping to conclusions. Why don’t you be reasonable and forget about what you saw? Then everything will be the way it used to be.”
He flashed her a smile that, just a few days ago, would have made her weak in the knees.
Kim’s hand tightened around the doorknob. She considered herself a tolerant person. There was a lot she’d tolerate in others, but laziness and lying were two character traits she considered unforgivable. Not that there was a problem with Gerald’s work habits. In fact, other than the way his custom-tailored suit fit—from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist and hips and down over his thick-muscled thighs—his ambition was what appealed most to her. She’d never known a man so willing to work so hard to get ahead. He had lofty dreams and expensive tastes, and he was prepared to do whatever it took to get what he wanted.
But the lying. That was another matter.
She’d had vague suspicions about what he’d been up to when he broke dates with her and claimed to be working late. Even so, she’d given him the benefit of the doubt when he did show up—late—smelling of a citrusy feminine perfume. Even yesterday, after Gerald had told her he’d be working straight through lunch, she had wanted to believe him. When she drove to pick up a sub sandwich a few blocks away, she’d been surprised to see Gerald’s Lincoln a few cars ahead of her. She was even more surprised to see a woman seated beside him. Although the hat that shielded the passenger’s face prevented Kim from identifying her, something about the woman seemed familiar. She reasoned Gerald had changed his mind and decided to take a co-worker after he couldn’t reach her at her desk. Assuming he was also headed to the sub shop, Kim followed him, intending to join them for lunch. When he passed the popular meeting place, she continued to follow him, thinking he’d stop for a burger farther down the road.
Instead, he’d pulled into the parking lot of a small motel. Staying a discreet distance behind them, Kim had watched in horrified disbelief as the couple walked, arm around waist, into the building.
Now, leaning against the door—more to prop herself up than to prop it open—Kim looked up and saw that Gerald was waiting for her to “be reasonable” and make everything “the way it used to be.”
She tried to take a deep breath of air, but her chest felt so tight that all she could manage were shallow pants. “All right,” she said at last, her voice coming out in a pitiful squeak. “I’ll be ‘reasonable’.” Searching his face, knowing the expression she saw there would be more honest than the words that would come out of his handsome mouth, she spoke slowly and deliberately. “Tell me truthfully why you and that woman were at the Kelawnee Motel.”
His gaze darted briefly away before he met her eyes and held them. “I told you, we had some business to discuss, and we didn’t want to be disturbed.”
His large fingers opened and closed around the briefcase handle. When she took notice of the nervous gesture, he squeezed the handle until his knuckles turned white.
Her voice sounded flat, even to her own ears, giving the impression that there was no knot in her throat, no crushing tightness at the pit of her very being. “Then why did you sign in as Mr. and Mrs. Gerald Kirkland?”
She hadn’t intended to let him know she’d stooped so low as to follow them inside. She hadn’t wanted him to know she cared. For, if he knew how much she cared, he must surely know how much she was hurting. And her pride couldn’t take it if pity prompted him to apologize or, worse, tell her he loved her.
He wouldn’t meet her gaze...just kept glancing at his car in the driveway. By now he’d moved out onto the gray-painted slabs of the old farmhouse’s broad front porch. He shifted the briefcase to his other hand and opened his mouth to speak.
Kim shook her head. She couldn’t bear to hear any more lies.
Resolutely, he closed his mouth and gave her a grim-lipped nod.
“Drive carefully,” she said. As she watched his car pull away for the last time, she realized how stupid that must have sounded. For, in her heart, she hoped she never saw him again.
Less than an hour later, the telephone rang. Thinking it might be Gerald trying to change her mind, she let her answering machine take the call.
After the beep, there was a slight hesitation before a woman’s voice spoke.
“This is the emergency room at Memorial General Hospital. I’m calling about—”
Kim snatched the phone out of the cradle. “Yes. Yes, I’m here.” She felt her heart pounding against her ribs. Her father’s health had seemed better since his last operation. She dreaded hearing what must surely be bad news. Even worse, she couldn’t bear to be away from her father if he was having a relapse. “What’s the matter? Is he all right?”
The woman didn’t answer her panicked questions, and Kim assumed the worst. “Are you Ms. Barnett?”
“Yes,” she blurted. “Yes, I am.”
“You’re listed as the person to contact in case of an emergency.”
“What’s wrong? Is he badly off?”
The woman’s voice softened. “You’d best come in, Ms. Barnett. He’s not expected to make it through the night.”
Kim felt her mouth go dry. She held the phone in stunned silence for several seconds before she spoke in a hoarse croak. “Was it his heart again?”
“I’m not aware of a heart problem,” the woman said gently. “Mr. Kirkland was injured in a three-car accident.”
CHAPTER ONE
TAKING a surreptitious glance at his fellow fenuki players, Jared reached into the billowing sleeve of his pristine white robe and withdrew a perfect gilded feather. Confident no one had witnessed his deft maneuver, he placed the coveted game piece on the table atop the plain white plumes placed by the other two players.
“Fenuki!” he shouted, proclaiming himself winner for the umpteenth time this century. Jared felt his halo slip to the left as if to herald to the others that this game—like many of the others—had come to him by sleight of hand.
As he counted his winnings, Mehrdad reached across and placed a quelling hand on his arm. Although his tone was gentle, his voice held a warning. “If Nahum thought that any of his staff wasn’t one hundred percent virtuous, it would be quite difficult for that staff member to earn his wings, don’t you think?”
Heedless of the implied threat, Jared laughed. “Would it matter? I now have almost enough fenuki feathers to make my own wings.”
Mehrdad bristled and rose to his feet. The tension caused light to crackle through the air. Heat lightning, the humans down below would call it.
But before Mehrdad could argue further, the wispy covering of fog swirled about them. A moment later, the thin veils of white parted and settled around their knees and ankles. Asim stood before them.
“Nahum wishes to see you,” the messenger told Jared. At his questioning glance, Asim added, “It is time for your performance appraisal.”
With a taunting grin at his fenuki opponent, Jared tucked the last of the feathers into his robe pockets and rose to follow Asim to the supervisor.
After all these centuries, he knew it would take more than luck to improve his abysmal performance record. Maybe he just wasn’t cut out for this kind of work. Workers in the Human Resources Department were expected to be reliable, dependable, and have an intimate understanding of the most fickle and confusing of all creatures...humans. As it happened, Jared possessed none of these qualities. Especially the last.
Nahum sat in beatific splendor upon his chair of gold-painted wicker. Jared knew it wouldn’t be long before his supervisor would be trading in that humble chair for a throne in another department. Already, Nahum had moved up the ranks of wing size until he now sported a pair that was taller and wider than himself.
Jared would have been happy with a pair of dinky baby wings made of gray down. Considering his own track record, it would take him at least several millennia, if ever, to earn such a glorious pair as Nahum’s. Jared tried to still his wayward thoughts. Wing envy was frowned upon up here.
But he had broad, strong shoulders that Nahum had told him gave him the potential to carry the weight of large wings. Although his supervisor had routinely given him low, yet honest, appraisals, he’d always encouraged Jared to put aside his playful ways and set his mind to the tasks he was asked to perform.
But, somehow, Jared’s attention would stray and he’d fail the assignment or have to turn it over to a worker with a better track record.
But this time was different. This time, he would do whatever Nahum asked, even if it meant safeguarding an accident-prone human. Jared grimaced as he remembered the last klutz he’d been assigned to watch over. After one too many mishaps while he’d let his mind wander, he’d been forced to let Mehrdad assume the responsibility of protecting President Ford.
Nahum nodded benevolently, his gaze falling upon Jared’s bulging pockets. “When your time comes to meet with the Chairman of the Board, I doubt he’ll think much of wings made out of fenuki feathers,” he said softly.
Sheepish, Jared stuffed the telltale overflowing fluff back into his pockets.
“I’ve been going over your personnel file.” The left-hand side of the folder held page after page of not-so-glowing reports. The right-hand side, reserved for commendations and accolades, sported only two thin sheets of parchment. “In addition to your lack of...shall we say, finesse... as a protectorate, there seems to be a couple of other problems holding you back.”
Jared couldn’t help being amazed by Nahum’s statement. Only a couple of problems? He waited in respectful silence for his superior to continue.
“The first is your cavalier attitude. You take everything so lightly, as if this were all just a big game. This isn’t the place for someone who chooses to act like such a...a...”
“Free spirit?”
“Exactly. We’re a team here. You must learn to work with others.”
“I’ll try to do better.”
Nahum crossed his arms over his chest, exposing the many rows of gold trim that weighted his sleeves. “You can start by referring to Mehrdad by his appointed name rather than ‘Mehrdy’.”
So his fenuki opponent had apparently been complaining.
“And it would be best if you discourage others from referring to you by a nickname. ‘Jerry’ sounds a bit too modern and casual for the serious nature of our work.”
Jared reverently bowed his head. “Thy will be done. And the other problem?”
Casting a skeptical glance at him for his easy acquiescence, Nahum opened another folder and produced a sheet of lined parchment, which he handed to Jared. “Apparently, there has been an oversight. Your training is incomplete.”
Glancing through the list at the many workshops and seminars written in elegant script, Jared was sure his elder had made a mistake. “But I’ve taken all the courses offered, and I passed them with flying colors.”
“You haven’t served your apprenticeship on Earth,” Nahum explained. “You need hands-on experience before you can move on to the next level of protectorate.”
Jared returned the parchment to his superior. “I’ve walked among humans—I’ve seen how they are.”
“But you’ve never been one. In all your previous assignments, you’ve remained invisible to your protectees, which means you’ve never had to learn to interact with them—communicate on their level.”
Jared started to interrupt and explain that he had spoken to his human charges on a number of occasions when he’d whispered warnings to them, but Nahum stilled his protest with an upraised hand.
“It is impossible to truly comprehend them until you’ve experienced their challenges and limitations—such as their inability to become invisible or to transmogrify themselves through earthly barriers. But you will see what I mean once you take human form.”
“Oh, no, you don’t! You’re not going to send me down there to go through the poopy diaper stage and have parents who tell me what to do all the time. You know I don’t handle restrictions on my freedom very well.”
“Which may have been why you were overlooked for apprenticeship all this time. There were no parents who deserved such a test.” Nahum leaned back in his chair, the winged back obscuring his face from all but the one directly in front of him, and thoughtfully stroked his long brown beard. “There is an assignment I’d like for you to handle.”
Jared breathed a long sigh of relief, then regretted his action when he realized the disorder it might cause in the form of hurricanes and twisters down below. If Nahum was giving him an assignment, it meant he wouldn’t be forcing him to go through the childbirth process and schooling and such.
“There is a young woman who needs your protection.”
Jared arched one eyebrow. He’d do his best, but if she was clumsy, she’d best stock up on bandages and ice packs. “Give me five minutes to put on a fresh robe, and I’ll be ready.”
“You won’t be needing it,” Nahum said. “You’ll be working as a protectorate while also serving your apprenticeship in human form.”
Jared’s mouth opened. He wasn’t being let off the hook after all. “How am I supposed to protect someone while I’m squalling for a baby bottle?”
Nahum steadied a look of infinite patience upon him before answering. “There is a soul whose hourglass is almost empty. You will inhabit his vessel when he leaves it.”
Jared rubbed his ears as if he might have misheard his supervisor’s words. “You mean...no spitting up and no fighting schoolyard bullies?”
“You will be a thirty-two-year-old male, living in Chesden, Illinois. That’s the United States, of course.” The supervisor added, almost as an afterthought, “Perhaps the only country that would put up with your unorthodox ways.”
“What about the woman? How am I supposed to protect her?” If he went into this assignment with a firm idea of what to expect, perhaps he could be better prepared.
Nahum closed the folder in front of him. “I don’t have all the details. You’ll have to find them out once you get there. But I do know that the woman is in danger of leaving her earthly body approximately fifty or sixty years sooner than her scheduled departure. Your job is to make sure she comes to no harm.”
Jared shook his head in amazement. “Only fifty years? What’s the big to-do about? In the overall scheme of things, fifty years is just a blink of an eye.”
Nahum gazed down at the worker before him. He’d grown accustomed to the oversize wings he wore, not to mention the golden braids on his sleeves that signified his exalted status. He was also counting on moving up to that big throne on the next level up. If this mission failed, he could be stripped of his hard-earned rank quicker than a thunderstorm in July.
On the other hand, if Jared could somehow manage to harness that creativity and energy of his, he—Nahum—might find the rewards well worth the risk.
“I believe your experience on Earth will change your mind about many such misconceptions.”
By the time Kim reached the hospital’s emergency room, Gerald’s condition had worsened. Her mouth unaccountably dry, she stopped at the water fountain near the ER receptionist. The water tasted stale and lukewarm, but the hesitation had allowed Kim a brief moment to gather herself together. For some reason, her thoughts kept returning to the feeling she’d harbored as she had watched Gerald drive away: She’d hoped she would never see him again.
Guilt plucked at her heart. What he’d done was despicable, but no one deserved this.
In the emergency room, Kim passed several curtained cubicles, some of which stood empty. One revealed a mother standing beside a bed whose occupant must have been no more than two years old.
Walking faster, she came to the nurses’ station where the hall broke off into more passageways with still more curtained cubicles. She paused, unsure which curtain Gerald was behind.
A bespectacled nurse glanced up from the rack of charts she’d been looking through. “May I help you, miss?”
“I’m looking for Gerald Kirkland.”
“You his wife, honey?”
Kim paused. Would she be allowed to see Gerald if she didn’t have some sort of family tie to him? “Um, fiancée.” It was only half a lie.
“Well, come on, then,” the nurse said, stepping out from the station. “They’re prepping him for surgery. Maybe you can see him for a moment before they take him in.”
Gerald looked almost as pale as the bleached white sheet beneath him. Two plastic bags hung suspended above him, one dripping clear fluid into his veins and the other replacing the blood he’d lost. An airway tube made a hissing sound as it pumped oxygen into his lungs.
Kim caught her breath at the sight of him. Only when she began to feel slightly faint did she make a conscious effort to breathe normally. It wouldn’t do him any good if she flaked out now.
“You okay, honey?” the nurse asked her.
Kim nodded. Another half lie.
She stepped closer, trying to ignore the various tubes and wires attached to Gerald’s body. His was a large, strong frame accustomed to vigorous activity. His body was the first thing she’d noticed about him. The reason she’d first been attracted to him. And perhaps the reason that other woman had been attracted to him.
She tried not to think of that now. Instead, she concentrated her effort on offering emotional support. She took his hand in hers and gently squeezed his fingers. He did not squeeze back, and Kim began to realize with a horrified understanding that there was nothing she could do to help him. Her eyes filled with tears that spilled onto his hand.
“He’s not able to respond,” said a man in scrubs, “but it’s possible he can hear you. It might help if you tell him how you feel about him.”
Tell him how she felt about him? As in, I don’t love you anymore, but I don’t want you to die, either? No, she couldn’t be so cruel.
When at last she spoke, her voice cracked. “Hang in there.” She squeezed his fingers again, as if the gesture would impart all the sincerity she was unable to put into words.
Blip, blip, blip. The only response she got was the unsteady beep of the heart monitor. Another man in green scrubs entered the tiny cubicle, and a woman in white followed.
Releasing his hand, she stepped away from the gurney and started out the way she’d come. She went out into the tiled corridor, determined to wait on the hard bench until the surgery was over.
Amid the murmuring of voices, the blips wavered briefly, then fell into one long, flat beep. Kim had seen enough television to know this was not a good sign. Activity in the room increased, and she rushed to pull the curtain open. For several moments, she watched in horrified fascination, wishing there was something she could do to help and knowing she was powerless to stop the current course of events.
Kim had no idea how long she stood there, watching without seeing, as the medical team struggled to bring Gerald back from the brink.
Finally, one of the men stepped away and began removing his gloves. “We’ve lost him.”
Please don’t let him die!
The man stopped what he was doing and looked up at Kim. Until then, she hadn’t realized she’d prayed out loud.
“Get her out of here,” he demanded.
The woman in white came to her and took her arm to guide her out, but not before Kim saw them raise the sheet over Gerald’s face.
Exhausted, she allowed herself to be led to the bench across the hall. The woman with her was uttering words of comfort, but Kim didn’t hear them. Her ears were tuned to the room where Gerald’s body lay.
When the woman suggested she call someone to drive her home, Kim realized she hadn’t told her father or stepmother before rushing over to be with Gerald. She dug some coins out of her purse and rose from the bench.
Someone behind the closed curtain asked, “Did he just move? I could have sworn I saw that sheet move.”
As if to confirm the statement, the monitor once again began blipping, this time stronger and steadier than before.
The woman in white ran back to Gerald’s cubicle. Kim’s legs felt powerless to support her, and she sank back onto the bench.
“Let me see,” came the voice of the man who’d ordered her out.
A moment later, the blipping of the monitor became more rhythmic.
A woman’s voice spoke in quiet awe. “It’s a miracle.”
Jared became aware of the sounds around him first. The noise was loud and cacophonous, unlike the soft, melodious sounds he’d become used to “on high.” First he heard a deep male voice asking if he had a problem with hemorrhoids. Then a click and a woman complaining about tough, grimy stains. Another click and the sound of something hitting against a hard object, followed by uproarious laughter.
With effort, Jared opened his eyes, squinting against the harsh light that came from two long cylindrical strips in the ceiling. Laughter rang out again, and he turned his head to the source, a large box projecting from the wall, with images of miniature humans showing inside it. He’d heard that the Chairman of the Board had such a box, to watch the activities of those below, but something told him this wasn’t the Big Guy’s office. Something rustled beside him, and he turned toward it.
A lovely creature sat in a chair near him and pressed a button on a small black box every so often. Each time she did so, the noise and pictures emanating from the box on the wall abruptly changed.
A vision of femininity, she was so beautiful he didn’t think she could possibly be human. But she wore no wings, and instead of the traditional white robe, she was garbed in two layers of loose-fitting upper clothing, neither of which had sleeves. Her lower limbs sported two dark blue casings that appeared to be held on the wearer by a series of buttons below her waist. And her feet were encased in a soft-looking white material. Like the sandals he was accustomed to, these were also tied, but instead of leather thongs, they were held together by white strips of fabric with clear, hard tips on the ends. Printed on the flap that protruded from the top of the foot covering was the word “Adidas.”
His gaze was drawn upward to her face. The eyes, cinnamon brown framed by lashes of black, were trained upon the box on the wall. Her features were of a pleasing proportion, and the dark brows and sun-darkened complexion complemented the burnished brown locks that surrounded her face.
Jared felt a strange sensation in the pit of his being. She was more beautiful than any angel he’d ever seen.
His thoughts returned to the name printed on her foot covering. Adidas. He was familiar with Adonis, the Greek god, and had even beaten him at a hand of fenuki. Could this, perhaps, be a beautiful goddess, maybe even a heretofore unknown relation of her handsome male counterpart?
She turned in her chair and became aware of his steady perusal. “Oh, you’re awake.” Her eyes were filled with compassion and pity. But something else lurked there, as well. A wariness emanated from her, making her appear torn inside. “Maybe I should call the nurse.”
“What are you doing here?”
She leaned forward and touched his arm, which was covered by a clean white blanket. “We almost lost you. No matter what our differences, I couldn’t leave you here alone, Gerald.”
“My name is Jared,” he corrected her.
She tilted her head slightly and gave him a small frown. “Do you know my name?”
How could he not know it when it was emblazoned on her garments? “Of course.”
The goddess appeared relieved for a spare moment, then leaned closer. “Tell me who I am.”
Jared didn’t know what sport she found in this game, but he decided to humor her. “You’re Adidas.”
His response appeared not to satisfy her. If she’d tell him the rules of the game, perhaps he’d be a more worthy opponent. Nothing seemed to make sense to him right now.
With a clatter to announce her entrance, a young woman entered the room pushing a cart laden with trays. “So, Sleeping Beauty finally decided to wake up, eh?” She positioned a narrow, wheeled table so that it reached across the bed where he lay, then placed one of the trays on top of it.
Jared didn’t know what he’d done to earn such treatment. Here he was, lying upon a chaise of white, with a nubile young goddess beside him and a servant woman to feed him. But he didn’t understand why there were no palm fronds to shade him from the harsh light and no clusters of grapes to be fed to him one by one. He would have to speak to Nahum and find out what was going on.
“Here’s your lunch, honey.” Turning to Adidas, she added, “I’ll tell the nurse that he’s come around.”
Adidas thanked the servant woman and moved her chair closer to Jared’s chaise. “Are you hungry?”
Was he hungry? He’d never experienced such a need in all his existence. Only humans wanted for physical sustenance.
Then realization dawned. He was now a human serving his earthly apprenticeship. He looked around him at his stark surroundings, taking in the painting that tried desperately to cheer up a wall filled with hoses and silver-colored fixtures. Taking in the clear, fluid-filled bag that hung over his bed—not his chaise—and that dripped liquid into a tube that disappeared under the blanket near his arm. Finally, his gaze fell on the goddess beside him. Could she be a mere human? If so, he wondered why he’d been so reluctant to complete this portion of his training.
She watched him expectantly, and he remembered she was waiting for his response.
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
She picked up a cream-colored box beside his pillow and pressed a button. The bed vibrated and moved upward until he was in a near sitting position. Then she took the cover off his tray of food. “Mmm, vegetable soup. Why don’t you try to eat a little, even if you’re not hungry? It’ll help you get your strength back.”
Jared tried to lift his arm to pick up the spoon, but the appendage was much heavier than he’d anticipated. And when he put more energy into his effort, his arm jerked upward and flopped heavily against the tray, spattering orange soup on the white blanket.
“It’s okay,” said Adidas. “I’ll feed you.” She turned her chair until she faced him and dipped the spoon into the soup. Scraping the bottom of the spoon against the bowl, she lifted it to his mouth.
Jared wasn’t sure how to do this. He watched her as she opened her mouth slightly when the spoon approached his face. Copying her action, he parted his lips. Warm liquid and lumps of vegetables touched his tongue, and he found the sensation quite pleasing. Adidas withdrew the spoon, and the liquid dribbled out of his mouth and down his chin.
He sat open-mouthed as most of the soup made a drool path down to his neck.
“It’s okay. I’ll get it.” The auburn-haired woman dabbed at his chin and neck until it was once again dry. “Maybe this time we should use a bib.”
As she tucked a paper napkin under his chin, a terrifying thought occurred to Jared. It appeared Nahum had changed his mind and decided to make him serve his full apprenticeship, starting as a baby.
Judging from the equipment in the room and the sterile smell of it, he decided he must be in a hospital. Could it be that he was a newborn and this gorgeous woman was his mother? Mothers feed their babies, and she was certainly doing that. He couldn’t remember the birthing experience, but then he’d heard that all humans forgot the events accompanying their emergence into the world.
The worst part would be going through life desiring his own mother. There was no way he could stop the strange urge that compelled him to stare at the beauty of her face, listen to the soft melody of her voice, or notice the gentle curves of her earthly form. How could Nahum do this to him!
But wait. Didn’t babies drink from bottles? Or elsewhere? Jared tried to rein in his errant thoughts as he pictured himself suckling from Adidas’s ample breast. No, if he were a baby, he wouldn’t be having such thoughts.
In fact, if he were a baby, he wouldn’t have been able to converse with her.
She pushed another spoonful of soup into his mouth, and this time he closed his lips around it, keeping the savory nourishment inside as she withdrew the spoon. It sat on his tongue as he wondered what to do with it.
This was quite different from on high. Up there, when they’d sipped wine or sampled grapes, it had been a symbolic procedure. The wine and grapes, having no dimension, had presented no problem, but this soup...
Reflex took over, and he swallowed. The chunks of vegetables lodged in his throat, bringing on a fit of coughing.
Adidas leaned forward and patted him on the back. Through a tear-filled haze, Jared was rewarded with a glimpse of the soft white flesh that filled out the front of her upper garments. Thoroughly distracted now, he ceased coughing. Strange, but this unexpected sight created even more pleasure than his first taste of vegetable soup.
“For goodness’ sake, Gerald, you’ve got to chew your food before you swallow it.”
“Chew?”
“Yes. You know, mash it between your teeth.” She stared at him with a mixture of curiosity and exasperation.
For some unexplained reason, Jared didn’t want her to be displeased with him. He wanted to see her smile, wanted her to lean close again so he could smell her sweet floral scent. And he wanted something else. It was a need that was so deep-rooted he couldn’t put a finger on what it was. What he did know was that this need somehow involved Adidas.
“Who is Gerald?” he asked.
She frowned at him a long moment before answering. “You were involved in a car accident...at the Pike Creek Overpass.” She waited a second as if she expected him to be familiar with this information. When he didn’t reply, she continued, her tone slow and careful, as if she was afraid of upsetting him. “You came very close to leaving us.” Her gaze dropped to her lap, and when she looked up again, her eyes glistened with moisture. “Your name is Gerald Kirkland. The doctors said you might suffer a temporary memory loss. But don’t worry, it’ll come back soon, I’m sure.”
Then Jared recalled Nahum’s words. There is a soul whose hourglass is almost empty. You will inhabit his vessel when he leaves it. So he had been placed in Gerald Kirkland’s body. At first he felt a twinge of guilt for invading the man’s physical casing. Then he remembered that the body would have died if he had not come into it.
He wondered if Adidas was the woman he was supposed to protect. And if so, how was he supposed to look out for her while confined to a hospital bed?
Jared lifted his right hand and was surprised to note how large it was. Dark hair covered the thick forearm. He reached for her, and she held his hand in her lap. Her skin was soft, even softer than a fenuki feather, and he relished the sensation of her fingers touching his.
“Tell me about your relationship with—” although he was inhabiting the man’s body, he couldn’t claim to be the former occupant “—Gerald.”
If she thought his question was odd, she didn’t show it. Instead, she seemed to be focusing on how best to word her reply. “We were...”
Hesitation. Wariness. There was something she obviously didn’t want to tell him. And she didn’t.
“We are friends. Just friends.”
“That’s it?”
“Your memory will come back gradually. Don’t push it too fast, Gerald.”
Jared squeezed her fingers. “Call me Jerry.”
She sat up straight in her chair and seemed to be trying to ignore the pressure of his fingers against hers. “You hate it when people call you that.”
“Not anymore.” With conviction, he added, “I’m not the man you used to know.”
CHAPTER TWO
KIM didn’t know what to do. Jerry—as he now insisted on being called—was driving her nuts. He was turning her home from a sanctuary into a zoo.
She realized she should try to have more patience with him. But it had taken repeated corrections and finally a look at her driver’s license to convince him her name was Kim, and not Adidas. He had seemed surprised to learn that she was only twenty-eight...in human years, as he’d put it. And patience ran thin after dealing with his endless questions about the mundane events and artifacts of everyday life. It was as if he were an alien from outer space and this was his first close-up look at life on Earth.
Kim stirred sliced bananas into the pancake batter, then poured out four round globs onto the hot griddle. And look at her now. Here she was, second vice president of Barnett’s Bakery—a woman accustomed to delegating work and giving instructions to high-level employees—taking breakfast orders from her temporary tenant.
As if it wasn’t bad enough that she was taking a couple weeks off from work to care for him when she most needed to be at the office, Jerry seemed to take delight in finding new ways to make her crazy.
First he’d gotten hooked on television. Daytime soaps, talk shows, cartoons, game shows and educational TV— he loved it all. Especially commercials. And he wanted her to buy him everything from the sugary cereal with a prize in the box to almost every sports car he saw advertised.
Then there was the telephone. He’d started out by listening to the dial tone until the electronic voice advised him to hang up and try again. After he got the hang of dialing numbers, he placed a flurry of calls to various 900 numbers. If he’d been confused by the horoscope predictions, he was absolutely bewildered by the sex-talk line.
“Why would a woman I’ve never met want to tell me what she’s wearing under her dress?” he’d asked.
Turning off the stove, Kim stacked the pancakes on plates, then poured two cups of coffee...black for him and cream and sugar for herself. A large tray accommodated the load, and she carried it to the den where she’d last seen Jerry sitting with his leg in that gaudy orange cast propped on the sofa.
He was nowhere to be found.
Kim set the tray on the coffee table and went to look for him. As she headed down the short hallway, she saw that the bathroom was empty, and the library, where she often caught him looking things up in the encyclopedia or dictionary, stood vacant.
Then she heard his deep voice coming from the guest bedroom. “Sure, I’d be glad to, but would you mind telling me what I should hold on to?”
She peeked in the open doorway and found him sitting on the bed with the phone to his ear.
Jerry looked up and smiled, the expression open and warm. It was an endearing gesture, and Kim tried not to be affected by it.
He placed his hand over the mouthpiece. “This guy told me to hold on, and then he started playing music for me. It’s really thoughtful of him, but I wish he’d stop for a moment and talk to me.”
Kim crossed into the room and sat on the bed beside him. “Who’s on the phone?”
“Besides me?”
Patience, the doctor had told her. Have patience. “Yes, besides you.”
“The guy on television who wanted to give me more information about life insurance.”
“But you have plenty of insurance as an employee benefit with my father’s company.”
“Oh, no, this is for you.”
She stared at the man who suddenly seemed so concerned about her, but his attention was diverted by the salesperson who had come back on the line.
“Yeah, it’s for my friend,” Jerry said. “How much will it cost to ensure that she lives at least another fifty or sixty years?”
Kim continued staring as his face took on an expression of disbelief. He slowly hung up the phone, apparently stunned by what he’d heard.
“What did he say?” she asked.
“I don’t know why anyone would want to,” Jerry said, “but he told me to put the phone somewhere that I don’t think it will fit.”
“He must have thought you were joking,” she offered in an effort to undo the effect of the salesman’s harsh words. Unlike the pre-accident Gerald, Jerry was at a loss for dealing with various types of stress. If she’d been that salesman, she, too, would have thought Jerry was making a prank call.
When the doctor had told her he would suffer memory loss, she hadn’t thought it would extend to such basic life knowledge. Jerry was certainly keeping her busy as she tried to teach him all the things he’d formerly known.
“Buying life insurance doesn’t ensure that you’ll continue to live,” she explained. “It just means that when you die, the insurance company will give a predetermined amount of money to your survivors so they can pay your burial expenses.”
He seemed genuinely surprised. “Then why don’t they call it death insurance?”
Kim shrugged, then put the phone back on the night-stand. “Come on, breakfast is waiting for you in the den. I made banana pancakes just like you asked.”
She stood and offered an arm to help him up, but he insisted on getting to his feet under his own steam. When he was balanced against his crutches, she led the way into the hall toward the adjoining room.
It wasn’t until she heard the thud and crash that she realized he hadn’t followed her out of the room. Dashing back to the bedroom, she found him lying in a heap on the floor, one crutch thrown to the side and the other balanced on his chest.
“Jerry, are you all right?” She ran and knelt beside him as he tried to struggle to a sitting position. “Don’t move until we’re sure you haven’t broken anything else.”
With a light touch, afraid that even a slight pressure could cause further damage, she ran her hands gently over his arms, body and legs to check for possible broken bones.
“Does that hurt?” she asked.
He closed his eyes. “No, it feels great.”
She jerked her hands away as if she’d been burned. It was enough that she was taking care of him these next couple of weeks. She certainly didn’t want him to get the impression he could expect anything more than room and board.
Kim helped him to his feet. “What happened?”
He lowered his head and gave her a sheepish grin. “I tried to take a shortcut through the wall.”
She felt her eyebrows draw together. “You can’t go through walls.”
“You’re right,” he agreed. “Not anymore, I can’t.”
“Huh?”
Jerry rubbed his head. “Human bodies can’t transmogrify.”
Again, Kim led the way to the hall, but this time she watched her charge to make sure he followed her. “I think you’d better lay off the cartoons for a while,” she advised as he made his way to the den and lowered himself onto the sofa.
With his hands, Jerry moved his leg up onto the cushions and sniffed the air appreciatively. “Smells great,” he said of the food on the coffee table.
“Thanks. I hope you like it.” And she did. Despite the angry way in which they’d parted and the constant annoyances he caused her since he was released from the hospital, it was fun watching him get so excited over small things. Before the accident, it would have taken a drastic improvement in the stock market or the opportunity to travel abroad and do some skiing to elicit anything more than a benign, controlled smile from him.
Jerry dug into the breakfast she’d prepared for him, and Kim watched with delight as his expression changed from hopeful anticipation to pure ecstasy. It had taken some practice, and she was glad to see he’d finally mastered the use of a fork. His attitude changed after he sampled the coffee.
“No offense,” he said, “but this is disgusting.”
Kim put down her fork. “You always loved black coffee—said you couldn’t make it through the day without at least three cups.”
Jerry grew quiet. “I told you before...I’m a different man now.” He looked at her with such silent intensity it seemed as though he was trying to convey some truth, some deep meaning along with the words.
The silence stretched out. Was he trying to win her back? Did he remember what he’d done to cause their breakup? For that matter, did he even remember their breakup? Was he telling her that the accident had made him a changed man and that he wouldn’t cheat on her again?
No, she was convinced he remembered nothing from before the car crash. It was as if Gerald had received a personality transplant. Dr. Richmond had told her he may have suffered some brain injury, which would account for some unlikely behavior, but she’d never expected he’d be like a totally different person. Why, he even insisted on a different name for the new personality he’d become.
She could drive herself crazy if she tried to understand it. Perhaps it would be best to gradually reintroduce him to familiar things that might help him recall his past. In the meantime, she’d let him stay here until his body and mind healed enough for him to move back to his condominium without further injuring himself or burning the place down. And if she enjoyed the company of the sweet, thoughtful man who complimented her and made her laugh, what would be the harm in that? Before long, he would regain his memory and resume his relationship with that woman he’d taken to the motel.
Her teeth clenched at the memory, but she pushed aside the hurt feelings that arose whenever she thought of that fateful day. “Here,” she said, handing him her coffee mug. “Try mine. Maybe you’ll like it better.”
He sipped it, and she watched as he touched his lips to the rim of the mug and drank the sweetened beverage. After he sampled it, his handsome mouth turned downward at both corners. He handed it back to her. “No thanks.”
She got up and went to the kitchen for a glass of orange juice. When she came back, he was staring at her once again in that odd, penetrating way of his.
She set the juice down in front of him, but he ignored it. “I’m sorry you’re having to miss work on account of me.”
At first she thought he was joking. The old Gerald would have expected as much as his due for merely existing. But when she saw how sincere he was, she gave a little shrug. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” .
“Did Gerald...do I have any relatives? Maybe someone else I could stay with?”
She’d answered so many questions about mundane, everyday things that she was surprised it had taken so long for him to get around to asking about his past. Perhaps what she told him would help jar his memory. And although anything she said to him at this point would be new information, she didn’t want to shock or hurt him.
“Your parents are gone.” At his questioning glance, she added, “Your father left when you were a baby, and your mother passed away when you were a teenager. Your only relative is your Aunt Rowena who lives in a nursing home.” She didn’t bother to mention that he would have had a wife if only he hadn’t been such a jerk.
He twisted on the sofa, moving his leg to the cleared portion of the coffee table so he could face her. “What about you?”
“What about me?” Forgetting about the wobbly chair leg, she scooted back into the cushions, causing the furniture to resettle with a thunk.
Jerry moved forward as if to catch her in case she fell.
“I’m okay,” she told him. “It’s done this before.”
“Why don’t you sit over here?” Jerry said, patting the sofa cushion beside him. “I’d feel terrible if you got hurt.”
Kim had to do a double take. It was hard to believe this was the same man who’d made a grid of dates and took bets from their co-workers on when the chair would finally collapse under her. When she saw that he wasn’t joking, she took him up on his offer.
“This place could use a little work,” he said once she’d settled beside him. “I noticed a loose step on the front porch, and last night when you went upstairs to your room, the banister swayed under your hand. If you’ll show me where your tools are, I’ll try to fix some of the stuff around here.”
He was right. There were quite a few things that needed fixing in this old farmhouse. But Gerald had never before offered to do any of the handiwork, partly because he considered it beneath him to do “common labor” and partly because he hated the big white farmhouse she’d bought outside the city. He kept insisting that they would buy a newer, bigger condominium to settle into once they were married. Gerald had considered it wasted effort to fix up a house he wouldn’t ultimately live in. Although she’d agreed to their engagement, they’d never finished working out where they would live.
And now he was offering to roll up his sleeves and be her live-in handyman despite the encumbrance of a cast on his leg.
“There’s no need,” she said. Eventually, she would get around to doing the chores herself, or she would hire someone to do the work after she was finished with the big project she was working on at the office. “I’ll take care of it before long.”
But that wasn’t soon enough to suit Jerry. He made her promise to show him where she kept her tools so he could start work after breakfast.
He shifted on the sofa so that he faced her. Once situated, he decided instead to pursue the line of questioning he’d started earlier. The more he knew about her, the easier it would be to protect her. And having her think he suffered from amnesia was a convenient tool for getting the information he needed. “We never finished talking about you. Tell me about your family.”
As she told him about her father, Maxwell, her young stepmother, Carmen, and her own single-child status, Jerry soaked up the warmth of the room as well as the warmth in her voice.
The house and its furnishings reminded him of her. It was simple and unpretentious, but still classic and welcoming. The old white frame house was situated in the middle of forty acres, about half of which were cleared. A small lake behind the house invited quiet introspection and meditation at its edge, and a barn gave shelter to the assorted wild geese and ducks that congregated near the water.
It was the inside of the house that most clearly displayed Kim’s personality. The blue overstuffed sofa and chair invited inhabitants to put their feet up, and the wood theme of floors and half-paneled walls gave an earthy feel. It was a house a man could feel comfortable in, but the ruffled curtains and thick blue-and-cream rug saved it from appearing masculine.
He knew from his forays into her library that she was an eclectic reader, sampling everything from the classics to science fiction, mystery and romance. He had been pleased to note that not only did a Bible sit among her collection, but it appeared by its worn condition to be well-read.
As she told him about her father’s thriving bakery business whose distribution covered a three-state region, Jerry took in the assorted magazine pictures of horses adorning the walls. On the fireplace mantel sat a framed photo of a young girl perched atop a pony while a man stood nearby holding the reins and smiling down at his tiny charge.
When she finished describing their planned expansion of the company, he changed the subject. “Why don’t you have any horses in the barn?”
She rolled her eyes and lolled back against the sofa. “That’s one reason I bought this place...so I’d have a place to keep the horses I’ve always wanted. But the business expansion keeps me so busy I don’t have time to care for an animal right now. Not even a cat.”
“How long until you’ve finished the expansion?”
“As soon as six months or as long as two or even three years, depending on how things go.”
He scratched his head. “I noticed a rosebush at the corner of the house. Do you ever take time to stop and smell the roses?”
Now it was Kim’s turn to scratch her head. If this question had been asked before Gerald’s accident, she would have known he was joking. But now...well, she just wasn’t sure.
“You are lecturing me about stopping to smell the roses?”
He grinned, the action deepening the small dimple in his left cheek. His whiskery cheek. Kim had never seen him unshaven before, and she couldn’t help noticing that the casual look on him was anything but casual. It made him look darker, more brooding, and more powerful than the clean-cut, three-piece-suited man she was accustomed to. Not even the gentle charm of his grin could lessen her gut-level response. In fact, the contrast actually emphasized the depth of his blue eyes and the sharp angle of his jaw.
“Does that surprise you?”
“Of course it does. You’re the workaholic pot calling me a black kettle. You were the one who talked Daddy and me into the expansion in the first place.”
Jerry frowned slightly as he took in what she was saying. “Did I work with you and your father at Barnett’s Bakery?”
“Yes,” she said gently, “and you worked just as hard or harder than both of us to get the merger started.”
“I did?”
Kim nodded. Her bangs fell forward and tickled her eyebrows. She hadn’t taken the time to mousse her hair this morning after her shower, and now her chin-length auburn hair swung softly around her face in free abandon.
“Then it’s about time I changed my ways,” he confessed.
“That’ll be the day.” The doctor hadn’t said whether Jerry would remember his recovery period once he regained his previous memories. However, Kim felt sure that once he recalled the events and motivations that had led him to become the person he’d once been, he would most likely go back to being the old Gerald. As for right now, he probably felt vulnerable and lost, which accounted for this new attitude of his.
“No, I’m serious.”
He touched her arm, and Kim shrank from the warmth of his touch. No matter how appealing he might be at the moment, she knew that, like a puppy that eventually outgrows its cuteness, Jerry would leave behind the innocence and charm that now warmed her heart. She expected he would probably also go back to the woman he’d been seeing. Her gesture didn’t go unnoticed by Jerry, and he removed his hand from her arm.
“It’s obvious that you and Gerald...uh, you and I...have our priorities mixed up. It’s impossible to enjoy the good things we have when we’re so busy working to acquire more.”
Kim narrowed her eyes at him. Same face, same hair, same body, and same gestures. If she didn’t know better, she’d think this was Gerald’s twin. The good twin.
“So I think it would do us both good to attend church this Sunday,” he continued. “You know, get in touch with our inner selves and make peace with the Big Guy for forgetting about all the good stuff He’s done for us. I understand He gets really ticked when people ignore Him.”
“Church?”
“Yeah. You know, the place with the steeple and the stained-glass windows,” he said as if she was the one who needed her memory jogged. “Or temple, if that’s your preference.”
It had been a while since she’d last attended church. Ever since she’d become involved in the expansion plans, she had either worked on Sundays or been too tired to get up in time to go to the morning service, so she was certainly overdue. As for Jerry, it was possible that he was searching for something to fill a void in his soul. Perhaps if he found spiritual peace, it would stay with him even after he regained his memory. Although she herself didn’t want to take another chance by becoming involved with him again, she hoped any such comfort he got from church would help make him a better person—both for himself and for the next woman in his life.
“Okay,” she said. “We’ll go to church this Sunday, but you have to shave first.”
Sunday morning, Kim set out a can of shaving cream and a fresh razor on the bathroom counter. Then she went into the living room to read the paper before getting dressed for church.
A moment later, he announced, “This is a leg razor.” A long pause followed. “A pink one.”
“That’s okay,” she told him. “It’ll still do the job.”
“But the guy on TV said a man needs a swiveling head.”
Kim stood up and fastened the robe tighter around her waist. Going to the bathroom, she reminded herself that he’d be returning to his own apartment in another week or two. Then she’d be able to pick up the pieces of her life.
As she entered the tiny room midway down the hall, he smiled and proceeded to make a long sweep with the razor that extended from his left ear, down to his chin, and back up to his right ear.
Kim gasped. “Good heavens, you look like you’re trying to slit your throat. Give me that razor.”
He did as he was told, and she reached up to blot the nick on his chin with a square of toilet paper.
“Here, I’ll show you how to do it.” He obligingly turned toward her as she lifted the razor to his face. “You have to take short, smooth strokes. Otherwise, you’ll look like you shaved with a kitchen blender.”
As she stood close to him, she was aware of just how tall he was. Even stooping over the crutches, he was tall enough to make her arms ache as she reached up to him. Her hand quivered, and she drew back.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
His brow furrowed, and Kim was hauntingly reminded of the strong physical attraction she’d felt the first time she saw Gerald. It had been lust at first sight, but even that didn’t compare to the raw physical craving she was feeling right now. Sure, he looked the same, except for a healing red line above his eyebrow and a few lingering bruises sprinkled across his body. But there was something different about him. About the way he looked at her as if he was committing the tiniest details of her image to memory.
Kim gave herself a mental shake. He was probably just recognizing something familiar in her features and trying to use them to dredge up lost memories. If she wasn’t careful, she might find herself falling for the temporary stranger in her bathroom.
“It’s just awkward... standing here like this,” she said at last. “My arms are getting tired.”
“What if I sit here,” he said, putting the lid down, “and you sit on the side of the tub?”
That would put them at about the same level. Perhaps if he wasn’t towering over her, his closeness wouldn’t have such a strange effect on her. She propped his crutches behind the door and took a seat next to him.
Once again, she lifted the razor to his face. As she stroked it over his skin, she thought of the many times she’d watched him shave after he’d spent the night at her place. A man of habit, Gerald had a particular procedure for almost everything he did. It was as if he turned something as basic as grooming into a science. It was hard to imagine that—after so many years of shaving in a certain fashion—it hadn’t become second nature, something for which he didn’t have to remember the steps in order to do it.
“Do like this,” she said, and twisted her mouth to one side.
Jerry stared at her lips and followed suit as she moved the razor over his flattened cheek. For some reason, he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her mouth. Sometimes, he noticed, when she was dressed up, her lips were a deeper red. This morning, however, she hadn’t done whatever she normally did to transform her appearance. Her eyelashes, though dark, weren’t as black as usual, and her eyelids were free of the pale brown shadows that made her irises appear as dark as the devil’s food cake he’d sampled last night. Up close like this, he could see the sprinkling of freckles across her nose that she usually managed to hide.
Fascinating as all that was, it was her lips that held his attention. Though the rest of her features were angular and sharply defined, her mouth was soft and full, reminding him of the tempting swells that rounded out the front of her upper garments. A tempting shade of pink, her lips somehow beckoned him.
She directed him to lift his chin so she could shave under his jaw. He did as told, his gaze never leaving her mouth as she removed the last of his whiskers.
Her lips tightened, and her tongue darted out. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
“No, everything’s perfect.” Knowing that, as all humans, she must have flaws, Jerry found it hard to believe she could seem so incredibly perfect.
“Oh, good. I was beginning to think I had egg on my face.”
He couldn’t picture her with that yellow food marring her appearance. However, he remembered watching her eat pancakes with syrup this morning. He wondered if a remnant of the sticky sweet stuff clung to her lips, and the thought made him want to taste them to find out.
Her tongue darted out again as she watched him watching her.
Instinct took over. Jerry impulsively leaned forward and touched his mouth to hers. Sure enough, a hint of maple offered itself to him as their lips pressed together.
It was wonderful...much better than pancakes. He tried without success to compare it to a sensation he may have experienced before. The closest he could come was being fed peeled grapes while reclining upon a pristine chaise, but even that was a mere shadow to what was happening here in this small room. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, the idea of combining this feeling with lying on the chaise made his pulse pound in his temples.
If he’d thought it was great before, Kim made it glorious when she returned the gesture and tasted him. His breathing quickened as Kim’s hands went around his neck, urging him closer. Moving so that his bum leg stretched out to one side, he reached out to her, his hands gripping her sides as he pulled her to him and positioned her between his thighs.
With his hands lightly touching her ribs, he allowed his thumbs to explore the tender flesh that he’d admired since the first time she leaned over him at the hospital. Although the white terry-cloth robe shielded her skin from him, he savored the softness and was surprised when the centers of the two hillocks hardened beneath his exploring fingers. This wasn’t heaven, he knew, but it wasn’t far from it.
Kim gasped, and Jerry could tell she was experiencing a similar quickening in her breathing. She squirmed in his arms, and just when he felt as though he might explode, she pulled back, breaking the contact of their lips. The look she gave him was one of fear and shame.
“Oh, my gosh,” she said, standing abruptly, “I can’t believe I just let that happen.”
CHAPTER THREE
ORGAN music swelled around them as they settled themselves into a pew near the aisle of the historic church. Jerry laid the crutches under the pew in front of him and stretched out his right leg. The orange covering of his cast practically glowed neon where the severed pants seams didn’t meet. Despite his less-than-immaculate appearance, Jerry seemed pleased with the way he looked in the three-piece suit.
“Cool,” he’d said when he caught sight of himself in the mirror this morning. If the old Gerald’s personality had returned, Kim was certain he would have insisted on waiting until his leg healed before going out in public like this.
He leaned toward her and whispered, “You tasted good.”
Kim fidgeted beside him. If they were to get through these next couple of weeks, she would have to make sure he understood the ground rules. Otherwise, she’d be right back where she started... falling for a low-down, womanizing, arrogant—
She stopped herself from further mental tirades. Besides, it wasn’t proper to think evil thoughts in church. Looking over at the man who sat so erectly beside her, she realized that he currently was none of the descriptions that had just played through her mind. But he wouldn’t remain this way. Kim wanted his memory to return in order for his healing to be complete, but she couldn’t help wishing he’d stay like this.
The doctor seemed confident his memories would eventually return. And when they did, she didn’t want to be involved with a man who was a low-down, arrogant womanizer.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she told him.
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” He looked down, his countenance thoughtful. “Next time, I’ll make myself a pancake. But, you know, syrup just doesn’t taste as good on a pancake as it does on you.”
Kim stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. And then she remembered that, in a sense, he had. “I’m talking about kissing. I realize you’ve forgotten our past, just like you’ve forgotten everything else,” she said gently. “But it’s important that you know we’ve tried this before, and it just didn’t work out.”
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Carolyn Greene
“I’ll make two promises to you, and I’ll keep them both.” (#uec13e8a1-0341-593e-af56-2bd24d73310a)Letter to Reader (#ubcef3d6b-2f3a-5618-b35e-e46b38d746e2)Title Page (#u7c1addd6-e0db-5c15-9ee8-771867b2163a)Dedication (#u18801793-18eb-5f54-a7f1-5100cd3ed044)PROLOGUE (#u33b7bb5a-b038-5725-9879-5814fd9418ef)CHAPTER ONE (#u9130522b-3ba0-5df0-8307-e9d4ffa01302)CHAPTER TWO (#u36e21098-9d87-5cdd-8adc-a47805152f5c)CHAPTER THREE (#u0a802963-472e-5311-9d26-cd97e675ef3b)CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
“I’ll make two promises to you, and I’ll keep them both.”
When Kim tried to turn away, Jerry touched her chin, urging her to look at him fully. “First, I promise you that I am not your ex-fiancé, nor will I ever hurt you the way he did. My second promise...” he drew in a lungful of air “...is to watch over you and protect you. I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
Kim suddenly wanted to lighten the mood. “That’s what guardian angels are for,” she joked, fingering the gold pin on her blouse.
“That’s exactly it!” he insisted proudly. “I’m your guardian angel.” And before she could protest he pulled her into his arms.
Dear Reader,
Remember the magic of the film It’s a Wonderful Life? The warmth and tender emotion of Truly, Madly, Deeply? The feel-good humor of Heaven Can Wait?
Well, we can’t promise you Alan Rickman or Warren Beatty, but, starting in June in Harlequin Romance
, we are delighted to bring you a brand-new miniseries: GUARDIAN ANGELS. It will feature all of your favorite ingredients for a perfect novel: great heroes, feisty heroines, breathtaking romance, all with a celestial spin. Written by four of our star authors, this witty and wonderful series will feature four real-life angels—all of whom are perfect advertisements for heaven!
We’ll be bringing you one GUARDIAN ANGELS romance every other month.
Heavenly Husband
Carolyn Greene
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
With many thanks to Kim Barnes for inspiring
me to write this book
PROLOGUE
KIM had always imagined that when you broke up with someone there would be screaming involved...from at least one of the two parties. And maybe some china thrown for dramatic effect.
The real thing turned out to be nothing like that. Somehow, she just couldn’t dredge up the energy to raise her voice. She felt dead inside, as dead as the love she’d once had for Gerald Kirkland. As for the china, she liked the blue-and-white pattern of the set that had once been her mother’s—the set her father had given her in anticipation of her upcoming marriage to Gerald. The delicate pieces were too precious to be wasted on the likes of him.
As for her fiancé—former fiancé—he was taking the news in a manner that suggested she’d just told him there was a power failure and they’d have to eat out tonight.
Kim moved to the door and held it open for him. “If you’ve forgotten anything, I’ll pack it up and send it to your apartment.” The thought flitted through her mind that she could burn anything he left behind or get rid of it in a garage sale, but, for now, she hurt too much to let her thoughts linger on revenge. All she wanted was to get him out of here—out of her house, out of her life, out of her mind, and mostly out of her heart.
Gerald bent to pick up his briefcase, the movement causing his biceps to bunch under the starched white shirt. Then, in a gesture that came more from habit than from intent, he leaned toward Kim as if to drop a casual kiss on her cheek. When she drew back, he seemed to realize the foolishness of his action.
“This is a big mistake,” he said. “You’re jumping to conclusions. Why don’t you be reasonable and forget about what you saw? Then everything will be the way it used to be.”
He flashed her a smile that, just a few days ago, would have made her weak in the knees.
Kim’s hand tightened around the doorknob. She considered herself a tolerant person. There was a lot she’d tolerate in others, but laziness and lying were two character traits she considered unforgivable. Not that there was a problem with Gerald’s work habits. In fact, other than the way his custom-tailored suit fit—from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist and hips and down over his thick-muscled thighs—his ambition was what appealed most to her. She’d never known a man so willing to work so hard to get ahead. He had lofty dreams and expensive tastes, and he was prepared to do whatever it took to get what he wanted.
But the lying. That was another matter.
She’d had vague suspicions about what he’d been up to when he broke dates with her and claimed to be working late. Even so, she’d given him the benefit of the doubt when he did show up—late—smelling of a citrusy feminine perfume. Even yesterday, after Gerald had told her he’d be working straight through lunch, she had wanted to believe him. When she drove to pick up a sub sandwich a few blocks away, she’d been surprised to see Gerald’s Lincoln a few cars ahead of her. She was even more surprised to see a woman seated beside him. Although the hat that shielded the passenger’s face prevented Kim from identifying her, something about the woman seemed familiar. She reasoned Gerald had changed his mind and decided to take a co-worker after he couldn’t reach her at her desk. Assuming he was also headed to the sub shop, Kim followed him, intending to join them for lunch. When he passed the popular meeting place, she continued to follow him, thinking he’d stop for a burger farther down the road.
Instead, he’d pulled into the parking lot of a small motel. Staying a discreet distance behind them, Kim had watched in horrified disbelief as the couple walked, arm around waist, into the building.
Now, leaning against the door—more to prop herself up than to prop it open—Kim looked up and saw that Gerald was waiting for her to “be reasonable” and make everything “the way it used to be.”
She tried to take a deep breath of air, but her chest felt so tight that all she could manage were shallow pants. “All right,” she said at last, her voice coming out in a pitiful squeak. “I’ll be ‘reasonable’.” Searching his face, knowing the expression she saw there would be more honest than the words that would come out of his handsome mouth, she spoke slowly and deliberately. “Tell me truthfully why you and that woman were at the Kelawnee Motel.”
His gaze darted briefly away before he met her eyes and held them. “I told you, we had some business to discuss, and we didn’t want to be disturbed.”
His large fingers opened and closed around the briefcase handle. When she took notice of the nervous gesture, he squeezed the handle until his knuckles turned white.
Her voice sounded flat, even to her own ears, giving the impression that there was no knot in her throat, no crushing tightness at the pit of her very being. “Then why did you sign in as Mr. and Mrs. Gerald Kirkland?”
She hadn’t intended to let him know she’d stooped so low as to follow them inside. She hadn’t wanted him to know she cared. For, if he knew how much she cared, he must surely know how much she was hurting. And her pride couldn’t take it if pity prompted him to apologize or, worse, tell her he loved her.
He wouldn’t meet her gaze...just kept glancing at his car in the driveway. By now he’d moved out onto the gray-painted slabs of the old farmhouse’s broad front porch. He shifted the briefcase to his other hand and opened his mouth to speak.
Kim shook her head. She couldn’t bear to hear any more lies.
Resolutely, he closed his mouth and gave her a grim-lipped nod.
“Drive carefully,” she said. As she watched his car pull away for the last time, she realized how stupid that must have sounded. For, in her heart, she hoped she never saw him again.
Less than an hour later, the telephone rang. Thinking it might be Gerald trying to change her mind, she let her answering machine take the call.
After the beep, there was a slight hesitation before a woman’s voice spoke.
“This is the emergency room at Memorial General Hospital. I’m calling about—”
Kim snatched the phone out of the cradle. “Yes. Yes, I’m here.” She felt her heart pounding against her ribs. Her father’s health had seemed better since his last operation. She dreaded hearing what must surely be bad news. Even worse, she couldn’t bear to be away from her father if he was having a relapse. “What’s the matter? Is he all right?”
The woman didn’t answer her panicked questions, and Kim assumed the worst. “Are you Ms. Barnett?”
“Yes,” she blurted. “Yes, I am.”
“You’re listed as the person to contact in case of an emergency.”
“What’s wrong? Is he badly off?”
The woman’s voice softened. “You’d best come in, Ms. Barnett. He’s not expected to make it through the night.”
Kim felt her mouth go dry. She held the phone in stunned silence for several seconds before she spoke in a hoarse croak. “Was it his heart again?”
“I’m not aware of a heart problem,” the woman said gently. “Mr. Kirkland was injured in a three-car accident.”
CHAPTER ONE
TAKING a surreptitious glance at his fellow fenuki players, Jared reached into the billowing sleeve of his pristine white robe and withdrew a perfect gilded feather. Confident no one had witnessed his deft maneuver, he placed the coveted game piece on the table atop the plain white plumes placed by the other two players.
“Fenuki!” he shouted, proclaiming himself winner for the umpteenth time this century. Jared felt his halo slip to the left as if to herald to the others that this game—like many of the others—had come to him by sleight of hand.
As he counted his winnings, Mehrdad reached across and placed a quelling hand on his arm. Although his tone was gentle, his voice held a warning. “If Nahum thought that any of his staff wasn’t one hundred percent virtuous, it would be quite difficult for that staff member to earn his wings, don’t you think?”
Heedless of the implied threat, Jared laughed. “Would it matter? I now have almost enough fenuki feathers to make my own wings.”
Mehrdad bristled and rose to his feet. The tension caused light to crackle through the air. Heat lightning, the humans down below would call it.
But before Mehrdad could argue further, the wispy covering of fog swirled about them. A moment later, the thin veils of white parted and settled around their knees and ankles. Asim stood before them.
“Nahum wishes to see you,” the messenger told Jared. At his questioning glance, Asim added, “It is time for your performance appraisal.”
With a taunting grin at his fenuki opponent, Jared tucked the last of the feathers into his robe pockets and rose to follow Asim to the supervisor.
After all these centuries, he knew it would take more than luck to improve his abysmal performance record. Maybe he just wasn’t cut out for this kind of work. Workers in the Human Resources Department were expected to be reliable, dependable, and have an intimate understanding of the most fickle and confusing of all creatures...humans. As it happened, Jared possessed none of these qualities. Especially the last.
Nahum sat in beatific splendor upon his chair of gold-painted wicker. Jared knew it wouldn’t be long before his supervisor would be trading in that humble chair for a throne in another department. Already, Nahum had moved up the ranks of wing size until he now sported a pair that was taller and wider than himself.
Jared would have been happy with a pair of dinky baby wings made of gray down. Considering his own track record, it would take him at least several millennia, if ever, to earn such a glorious pair as Nahum’s. Jared tried to still his wayward thoughts. Wing envy was frowned upon up here.
But he had broad, strong shoulders that Nahum had told him gave him the potential to carry the weight of large wings. Although his supervisor had routinely given him low, yet honest, appraisals, he’d always encouraged Jared to put aside his playful ways and set his mind to the tasks he was asked to perform.
But, somehow, Jared’s attention would stray and he’d fail the assignment or have to turn it over to a worker with a better track record.
But this time was different. This time, he would do whatever Nahum asked, even if it meant safeguarding an accident-prone human. Jared grimaced as he remembered the last klutz he’d been assigned to watch over. After one too many mishaps while he’d let his mind wander, he’d been forced to let Mehrdad assume the responsibility of protecting President Ford.
Nahum nodded benevolently, his gaze falling upon Jared’s bulging pockets. “When your time comes to meet with the Chairman of the Board, I doubt he’ll think much of wings made out of fenuki feathers,” he said softly.
Sheepish, Jared stuffed the telltale overflowing fluff back into his pockets.
“I’ve been going over your personnel file.” The left-hand side of the folder held page after page of not-so-glowing reports. The right-hand side, reserved for commendations and accolades, sported only two thin sheets of parchment. “In addition to your lack of...shall we say, finesse... as a protectorate, there seems to be a couple of other problems holding you back.”
Jared couldn’t help being amazed by Nahum’s statement. Only a couple of problems? He waited in respectful silence for his superior to continue.
“The first is your cavalier attitude. You take everything so lightly, as if this were all just a big game. This isn’t the place for someone who chooses to act like such a...a...”
“Free spirit?”
“Exactly. We’re a team here. You must learn to work with others.”
“I’ll try to do better.”
Nahum crossed his arms over his chest, exposing the many rows of gold trim that weighted his sleeves. “You can start by referring to Mehrdad by his appointed name rather than ‘Mehrdy’.”
So his fenuki opponent had apparently been complaining.
“And it would be best if you discourage others from referring to you by a nickname. ‘Jerry’ sounds a bit too modern and casual for the serious nature of our work.”
Jared reverently bowed his head. “Thy will be done. And the other problem?”
Casting a skeptical glance at him for his easy acquiescence, Nahum opened another folder and produced a sheet of lined parchment, which he handed to Jared. “Apparently, there has been an oversight. Your training is incomplete.”
Glancing through the list at the many workshops and seminars written in elegant script, Jared was sure his elder had made a mistake. “But I’ve taken all the courses offered, and I passed them with flying colors.”
“You haven’t served your apprenticeship on Earth,” Nahum explained. “You need hands-on experience before you can move on to the next level of protectorate.”
Jared returned the parchment to his superior. “I’ve walked among humans—I’ve seen how they are.”
“But you’ve never been one. In all your previous assignments, you’ve remained invisible to your protectees, which means you’ve never had to learn to interact with them—communicate on their level.”
Jared started to interrupt and explain that he had spoken to his human charges on a number of occasions when he’d whispered warnings to them, but Nahum stilled his protest with an upraised hand.
“It is impossible to truly comprehend them until you’ve experienced their challenges and limitations—such as their inability to become invisible or to transmogrify themselves through earthly barriers. But you will see what I mean once you take human form.”
“Oh, no, you don’t! You’re not going to send me down there to go through the poopy diaper stage and have parents who tell me what to do all the time. You know I don’t handle restrictions on my freedom very well.”
“Which may have been why you were overlooked for apprenticeship all this time. There were no parents who deserved such a test.” Nahum leaned back in his chair, the winged back obscuring his face from all but the one directly in front of him, and thoughtfully stroked his long brown beard. “There is an assignment I’d like for you to handle.”
Jared breathed a long sigh of relief, then regretted his action when he realized the disorder it might cause in the form of hurricanes and twisters down below. If Nahum was giving him an assignment, it meant he wouldn’t be forcing him to go through the childbirth process and schooling and such.
“There is a young woman who needs your protection.”
Jared arched one eyebrow. He’d do his best, but if she was clumsy, she’d best stock up on bandages and ice packs. “Give me five minutes to put on a fresh robe, and I’ll be ready.”
“You won’t be needing it,” Nahum said. “You’ll be working as a protectorate while also serving your apprenticeship in human form.”
Jared’s mouth opened. He wasn’t being let off the hook after all. “How am I supposed to protect someone while I’m squalling for a baby bottle?”
Nahum steadied a look of infinite patience upon him before answering. “There is a soul whose hourglass is almost empty. You will inhabit his vessel when he leaves it.”
Jared rubbed his ears as if he might have misheard his supervisor’s words. “You mean...no spitting up and no fighting schoolyard bullies?”
“You will be a thirty-two-year-old male, living in Chesden, Illinois. That’s the United States, of course.” The supervisor added, almost as an afterthought, “Perhaps the only country that would put up with your unorthodox ways.”
“What about the woman? How am I supposed to protect her?” If he went into this assignment with a firm idea of what to expect, perhaps he could be better prepared.
Nahum closed the folder in front of him. “I don’t have all the details. You’ll have to find them out once you get there. But I do know that the woman is in danger of leaving her earthly body approximately fifty or sixty years sooner than her scheduled departure. Your job is to make sure she comes to no harm.”
Jared shook his head in amazement. “Only fifty years? What’s the big to-do about? In the overall scheme of things, fifty years is just a blink of an eye.”
Nahum gazed down at the worker before him. He’d grown accustomed to the oversize wings he wore, not to mention the golden braids on his sleeves that signified his exalted status. He was also counting on moving up to that big throne on the next level up. If this mission failed, he could be stripped of his hard-earned rank quicker than a thunderstorm in July.
On the other hand, if Jared could somehow manage to harness that creativity and energy of his, he—Nahum—might find the rewards well worth the risk.
“I believe your experience on Earth will change your mind about many such misconceptions.”
By the time Kim reached the hospital’s emergency room, Gerald’s condition had worsened. Her mouth unaccountably dry, she stopped at the water fountain near the ER receptionist. The water tasted stale and lukewarm, but the hesitation had allowed Kim a brief moment to gather herself together. For some reason, her thoughts kept returning to the feeling she’d harbored as she had watched Gerald drive away: She’d hoped she would never see him again.
Guilt plucked at her heart. What he’d done was despicable, but no one deserved this.
In the emergency room, Kim passed several curtained cubicles, some of which stood empty. One revealed a mother standing beside a bed whose occupant must have been no more than two years old.
Walking faster, she came to the nurses’ station where the hall broke off into more passageways with still more curtained cubicles. She paused, unsure which curtain Gerald was behind.
A bespectacled nurse glanced up from the rack of charts she’d been looking through. “May I help you, miss?”
“I’m looking for Gerald Kirkland.”
“You his wife, honey?”
Kim paused. Would she be allowed to see Gerald if she didn’t have some sort of family tie to him? “Um, fiancée.” It was only half a lie.
“Well, come on, then,” the nurse said, stepping out from the station. “They’re prepping him for surgery. Maybe you can see him for a moment before they take him in.”
Gerald looked almost as pale as the bleached white sheet beneath him. Two plastic bags hung suspended above him, one dripping clear fluid into his veins and the other replacing the blood he’d lost. An airway tube made a hissing sound as it pumped oxygen into his lungs.
Kim caught her breath at the sight of him. Only when she began to feel slightly faint did she make a conscious effort to breathe normally. It wouldn’t do him any good if she flaked out now.
“You okay, honey?” the nurse asked her.
Kim nodded. Another half lie.
She stepped closer, trying to ignore the various tubes and wires attached to Gerald’s body. His was a large, strong frame accustomed to vigorous activity. His body was the first thing she’d noticed about him. The reason she’d first been attracted to him. And perhaps the reason that other woman had been attracted to him.
She tried not to think of that now. Instead, she concentrated her effort on offering emotional support. She took his hand in hers and gently squeezed his fingers. He did not squeeze back, and Kim began to realize with a horrified understanding that there was nothing she could do to help him. Her eyes filled with tears that spilled onto his hand.
“He’s not able to respond,” said a man in scrubs, “but it’s possible he can hear you. It might help if you tell him how you feel about him.”
Tell him how she felt about him? As in, I don’t love you anymore, but I don’t want you to die, either? No, she couldn’t be so cruel.
When at last she spoke, her voice cracked. “Hang in there.” She squeezed his fingers again, as if the gesture would impart all the sincerity she was unable to put into words.
Blip, blip, blip. The only response she got was the unsteady beep of the heart monitor. Another man in green scrubs entered the tiny cubicle, and a woman in white followed.
Releasing his hand, she stepped away from the gurney and started out the way she’d come. She went out into the tiled corridor, determined to wait on the hard bench until the surgery was over.
Amid the murmuring of voices, the blips wavered briefly, then fell into one long, flat beep. Kim had seen enough television to know this was not a good sign. Activity in the room increased, and she rushed to pull the curtain open. For several moments, she watched in horrified fascination, wishing there was something she could do to help and knowing she was powerless to stop the current course of events.
Kim had no idea how long she stood there, watching without seeing, as the medical team struggled to bring Gerald back from the brink.
Finally, one of the men stepped away and began removing his gloves. “We’ve lost him.”
Please don’t let him die!
The man stopped what he was doing and looked up at Kim. Until then, she hadn’t realized she’d prayed out loud.
“Get her out of here,” he demanded.
The woman in white came to her and took her arm to guide her out, but not before Kim saw them raise the sheet over Gerald’s face.
Exhausted, she allowed herself to be led to the bench across the hall. The woman with her was uttering words of comfort, but Kim didn’t hear them. Her ears were tuned to the room where Gerald’s body lay.
When the woman suggested she call someone to drive her home, Kim realized she hadn’t told her father or stepmother before rushing over to be with Gerald. She dug some coins out of her purse and rose from the bench.
Someone behind the closed curtain asked, “Did he just move? I could have sworn I saw that sheet move.”
As if to confirm the statement, the monitor once again began blipping, this time stronger and steadier than before.
The woman in white ran back to Gerald’s cubicle. Kim’s legs felt powerless to support her, and she sank back onto the bench.
“Let me see,” came the voice of the man who’d ordered her out.
A moment later, the blipping of the monitor became more rhythmic.
A woman’s voice spoke in quiet awe. “It’s a miracle.”
Jared became aware of the sounds around him first. The noise was loud and cacophonous, unlike the soft, melodious sounds he’d become used to “on high.” First he heard a deep male voice asking if he had a problem with hemorrhoids. Then a click and a woman complaining about tough, grimy stains. Another click and the sound of something hitting against a hard object, followed by uproarious laughter.
With effort, Jared opened his eyes, squinting against the harsh light that came from two long cylindrical strips in the ceiling. Laughter rang out again, and he turned his head to the source, a large box projecting from the wall, with images of miniature humans showing inside it. He’d heard that the Chairman of the Board had such a box, to watch the activities of those below, but something told him this wasn’t the Big Guy’s office. Something rustled beside him, and he turned toward it.
A lovely creature sat in a chair near him and pressed a button on a small black box every so often. Each time she did so, the noise and pictures emanating from the box on the wall abruptly changed.
A vision of femininity, she was so beautiful he didn’t think she could possibly be human. But she wore no wings, and instead of the traditional white robe, she was garbed in two layers of loose-fitting upper clothing, neither of which had sleeves. Her lower limbs sported two dark blue casings that appeared to be held on the wearer by a series of buttons below her waist. And her feet were encased in a soft-looking white material. Like the sandals he was accustomed to, these were also tied, but instead of leather thongs, they were held together by white strips of fabric with clear, hard tips on the ends. Printed on the flap that protruded from the top of the foot covering was the word “Adidas.”
His gaze was drawn upward to her face. The eyes, cinnamon brown framed by lashes of black, were trained upon the box on the wall. Her features were of a pleasing proportion, and the dark brows and sun-darkened complexion complemented the burnished brown locks that surrounded her face.
Jared felt a strange sensation in the pit of his being. She was more beautiful than any angel he’d ever seen.
His thoughts returned to the name printed on her foot covering. Adidas. He was familiar with Adonis, the Greek god, and had even beaten him at a hand of fenuki. Could this, perhaps, be a beautiful goddess, maybe even a heretofore unknown relation of her handsome male counterpart?
She turned in her chair and became aware of his steady perusal. “Oh, you’re awake.” Her eyes were filled with compassion and pity. But something else lurked there, as well. A wariness emanated from her, making her appear torn inside. “Maybe I should call the nurse.”
“What are you doing here?”
She leaned forward and touched his arm, which was covered by a clean white blanket. “We almost lost you. No matter what our differences, I couldn’t leave you here alone, Gerald.”
“My name is Jared,” he corrected her.
She tilted her head slightly and gave him a small frown. “Do you know my name?”
How could he not know it when it was emblazoned on her garments? “Of course.”
The goddess appeared relieved for a spare moment, then leaned closer. “Tell me who I am.”
Jared didn’t know what sport she found in this game, but he decided to humor her. “You’re Adidas.”
His response appeared not to satisfy her. If she’d tell him the rules of the game, perhaps he’d be a more worthy opponent. Nothing seemed to make sense to him right now.
With a clatter to announce her entrance, a young woman entered the room pushing a cart laden with trays. “So, Sleeping Beauty finally decided to wake up, eh?” She positioned a narrow, wheeled table so that it reached across the bed where he lay, then placed one of the trays on top of it.
Jared didn’t know what he’d done to earn such treatment. Here he was, lying upon a chaise of white, with a nubile young goddess beside him and a servant woman to feed him. But he didn’t understand why there were no palm fronds to shade him from the harsh light and no clusters of grapes to be fed to him one by one. He would have to speak to Nahum and find out what was going on.
“Here’s your lunch, honey.” Turning to Adidas, she added, “I’ll tell the nurse that he’s come around.”
Adidas thanked the servant woman and moved her chair closer to Jared’s chaise. “Are you hungry?”
Was he hungry? He’d never experienced such a need in all his existence. Only humans wanted for physical sustenance.
Then realization dawned. He was now a human serving his earthly apprenticeship. He looked around him at his stark surroundings, taking in the painting that tried desperately to cheer up a wall filled with hoses and silver-colored fixtures. Taking in the clear, fluid-filled bag that hung over his bed—not his chaise—and that dripped liquid into a tube that disappeared under the blanket near his arm. Finally, his gaze fell on the goddess beside him. Could she be a mere human? If so, he wondered why he’d been so reluctant to complete this portion of his training.
She watched him expectantly, and he remembered she was waiting for his response.
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
She picked up a cream-colored box beside his pillow and pressed a button. The bed vibrated and moved upward until he was in a near sitting position. Then she took the cover off his tray of food. “Mmm, vegetable soup. Why don’t you try to eat a little, even if you’re not hungry? It’ll help you get your strength back.”
Jared tried to lift his arm to pick up the spoon, but the appendage was much heavier than he’d anticipated. And when he put more energy into his effort, his arm jerked upward and flopped heavily against the tray, spattering orange soup on the white blanket.
“It’s okay,” said Adidas. “I’ll feed you.” She turned her chair until she faced him and dipped the spoon into the soup. Scraping the bottom of the spoon against the bowl, she lifted it to his mouth.
Jared wasn’t sure how to do this. He watched her as she opened her mouth slightly when the spoon approached his face. Copying her action, he parted his lips. Warm liquid and lumps of vegetables touched his tongue, and he found the sensation quite pleasing. Adidas withdrew the spoon, and the liquid dribbled out of his mouth and down his chin.
He sat open-mouthed as most of the soup made a drool path down to his neck.
“It’s okay. I’ll get it.” The auburn-haired woman dabbed at his chin and neck until it was once again dry. “Maybe this time we should use a bib.”
As she tucked a paper napkin under his chin, a terrifying thought occurred to Jared. It appeared Nahum had changed his mind and decided to make him serve his full apprenticeship, starting as a baby.
Judging from the equipment in the room and the sterile smell of it, he decided he must be in a hospital. Could it be that he was a newborn and this gorgeous woman was his mother? Mothers feed their babies, and she was certainly doing that. He couldn’t remember the birthing experience, but then he’d heard that all humans forgot the events accompanying their emergence into the world.
The worst part would be going through life desiring his own mother. There was no way he could stop the strange urge that compelled him to stare at the beauty of her face, listen to the soft melody of her voice, or notice the gentle curves of her earthly form. How could Nahum do this to him!
But wait. Didn’t babies drink from bottles? Or elsewhere? Jared tried to rein in his errant thoughts as he pictured himself suckling from Adidas’s ample breast. No, if he were a baby, he wouldn’t be having such thoughts.
In fact, if he were a baby, he wouldn’t have been able to converse with her.
She pushed another spoonful of soup into his mouth, and this time he closed his lips around it, keeping the savory nourishment inside as she withdrew the spoon. It sat on his tongue as he wondered what to do with it.
This was quite different from on high. Up there, when they’d sipped wine or sampled grapes, it had been a symbolic procedure. The wine and grapes, having no dimension, had presented no problem, but this soup...
Reflex took over, and he swallowed. The chunks of vegetables lodged in his throat, bringing on a fit of coughing.
Adidas leaned forward and patted him on the back. Through a tear-filled haze, Jared was rewarded with a glimpse of the soft white flesh that filled out the front of her upper garments. Thoroughly distracted now, he ceased coughing. Strange, but this unexpected sight created even more pleasure than his first taste of vegetable soup.
“For goodness’ sake, Gerald, you’ve got to chew your food before you swallow it.”
“Chew?”
“Yes. You know, mash it between your teeth.” She stared at him with a mixture of curiosity and exasperation.
For some unexplained reason, Jared didn’t want her to be displeased with him. He wanted to see her smile, wanted her to lean close again so he could smell her sweet floral scent. And he wanted something else. It was a need that was so deep-rooted he couldn’t put a finger on what it was. What he did know was that this need somehow involved Adidas.
“Who is Gerald?” he asked.
She frowned at him a long moment before answering. “You were involved in a car accident...at the Pike Creek Overpass.” She waited a second as if she expected him to be familiar with this information. When he didn’t reply, she continued, her tone slow and careful, as if she was afraid of upsetting him. “You came very close to leaving us.” Her gaze dropped to her lap, and when she looked up again, her eyes glistened with moisture. “Your name is Gerald Kirkland. The doctors said you might suffer a temporary memory loss. But don’t worry, it’ll come back soon, I’m sure.”
Then Jared recalled Nahum’s words. There is a soul whose hourglass is almost empty. You will inhabit his vessel when he leaves it. So he had been placed in Gerald Kirkland’s body. At first he felt a twinge of guilt for invading the man’s physical casing. Then he remembered that the body would have died if he had not come into it.
He wondered if Adidas was the woman he was supposed to protect. And if so, how was he supposed to look out for her while confined to a hospital bed?
Jared lifted his right hand and was surprised to note how large it was. Dark hair covered the thick forearm. He reached for her, and she held his hand in her lap. Her skin was soft, even softer than a fenuki feather, and he relished the sensation of her fingers touching his.
“Tell me about your relationship with—” although he was inhabiting the man’s body, he couldn’t claim to be the former occupant “—Gerald.”
If she thought his question was odd, she didn’t show it. Instead, she seemed to be focusing on how best to word her reply. “We were...”
Hesitation. Wariness. There was something she obviously didn’t want to tell him. And she didn’t.
“We are friends. Just friends.”
“That’s it?”
“Your memory will come back gradually. Don’t push it too fast, Gerald.”
Jared squeezed her fingers. “Call me Jerry.”
She sat up straight in her chair and seemed to be trying to ignore the pressure of his fingers against hers. “You hate it when people call you that.”
“Not anymore.” With conviction, he added, “I’m not the man you used to know.”
CHAPTER TWO
KIM didn’t know what to do. Jerry—as he now insisted on being called—was driving her nuts. He was turning her home from a sanctuary into a zoo.
She realized she should try to have more patience with him. But it had taken repeated corrections and finally a look at her driver’s license to convince him her name was Kim, and not Adidas. He had seemed surprised to learn that she was only twenty-eight...in human years, as he’d put it. And patience ran thin after dealing with his endless questions about the mundane events and artifacts of everyday life. It was as if he were an alien from outer space and this was his first close-up look at life on Earth.
Kim stirred sliced bananas into the pancake batter, then poured out four round globs onto the hot griddle. And look at her now. Here she was, second vice president of Barnett’s Bakery—a woman accustomed to delegating work and giving instructions to high-level employees—taking breakfast orders from her temporary tenant.
As if it wasn’t bad enough that she was taking a couple weeks off from work to care for him when she most needed to be at the office, Jerry seemed to take delight in finding new ways to make her crazy.
First he’d gotten hooked on television. Daytime soaps, talk shows, cartoons, game shows and educational TV— he loved it all. Especially commercials. And he wanted her to buy him everything from the sugary cereal with a prize in the box to almost every sports car he saw advertised.
Then there was the telephone. He’d started out by listening to the dial tone until the electronic voice advised him to hang up and try again. After he got the hang of dialing numbers, he placed a flurry of calls to various 900 numbers. If he’d been confused by the horoscope predictions, he was absolutely bewildered by the sex-talk line.
“Why would a woman I’ve never met want to tell me what she’s wearing under her dress?” he’d asked.
Turning off the stove, Kim stacked the pancakes on plates, then poured two cups of coffee...black for him and cream and sugar for herself. A large tray accommodated the load, and she carried it to the den where she’d last seen Jerry sitting with his leg in that gaudy orange cast propped on the sofa.
He was nowhere to be found.
Kim set the tray on the coffee table and went to look for him. As she headed down the short hallway, she saw that the bathroom was empty, and the library, where she often caught him looking things up in the encyclopedia or dictionary, stood vacant.
Then she heard his deep voice coming from the guest bedroom. “Sure, I’d be glad to, but would you mind telling me what I should hold on to?”
She peeked in the open doorway and found him sitting on the bed with the phone to his ear.
Jerry looked up and smiled, the expression open and warm. It was an endearing gesture, and Kim tried not to be affected by it.
He placed his hand over the mouthpiece. “This guy told me to hold on, and then he started playing music for me. It’s really thoughtful of him, but I wish he’d stop for a moment and talk to me.”
Kim crossed into the room and sat on the bed beside him. “Who’s on the phone?”
“Besides me?”
Patience, the doctor had told her. Have patience. “Yes, besides you.”
“The guy on television who wanted to give me more information about life insurance.”
“But you have plenty of insurance as an employee benefit with my father’s company.”
“Oh, no, this is for you.”
She stared at the man who suddenly seemed so concerned about her, but his attention was diverted by the salesperson who had come back on the line.
“Yeah, it’s for my friend,” Jerry said. “How much will it cost to ensure that she lives at least another fifty or sixty years?”
Kim continued staring as his face took on an expression of disbelief. He slowly hung up the phone, apparently stunned by what he’d heard.
“What did he say?” she asked.
“I don’t know why anyone would want to,” Jerry said, “but he told me to put the phone somewhere that I don’t think it will fit.”
“He must have thought you were joking,” she offered in an effort to undo the effect of the salesman’s harsh words. Unlike the pre-accident Gerald, Jerry was at a loss for dealing with various types of stress. If she’d been that salesman, she, too, would have thought Jerry was making a prank call.
When the doctor had told her he would suffer memory loss, she hadn’t thought it would extend to such basic life knowledge. Jerry was certainly keeping her busy as she tried to teach him all the things he’d formerly known.
“Buying life insurance doesn’t ensure that you’ll continue to live,” she explained. “It just means that when you die, the insurance company will give a predetermined amount of money to your survivors so they can pay your burial expenses.”
He seemed genuinely surprised. “Then why don’t they call it death insurance?”
Kim shrugged, then put the phone back on the night-stand. “Come on, breakfast is waiting for you in the den. I made banana pancakes just like you asked.”
She stood and offered an arm to help him up, but he insisted on getting to his feet under his own steam. When he was balanced against his crutches, she led the way into the hall toward the adjoining room.
It wasn’t until she heard the thud and crash that she realized he hadn’t followed her out of the room. Dashing back to the bedroom, she found him lying in a heap on the floor, one crutch thrown to the side and the other balanced on his chest.
“Jerry, are you all right?” She ran and knelt beside him as he tried to struggle to a sitting position. “Don’t move until we’re sure you haven’t broken anything else.”
With a light touch, afraid that even a slight pressure could cause further damage, she ran her hands gently over his arms, body and legs to check for possible broken bones.
“Does that hurt?” she asked.
He closed his eyes. “No, it feels great.”
She jerked her hands away as if she’d been burned. It was enough that she was taking care of him these next couple of weeks. She certainly didn’t want him to get the impression he could expect anything more than room and board.
Kim helped him to his feet. “What happened?”
He lowered his head and gave her a sheepish grin. “I tried to take a shortcut through the wall.”
She felt her eyebrows draw together. “You can’t go through walls.”
“You’re right,” he agreed. “Not anymore, I can’t.”
“Huh?”
Jerry rubbed his head. “Human bodies can’t transmogrify.”
Again, Kim led the way to the hall, but this time she watched her charge to make sure he followed her. “I think you’d better lay off the cartoons for a while,” she advised as he made his way to the den and lowered himself onto the sofa.
With his hands, Jerry moved his leg up onto the cushions and sniffed the air appreciatively. “Smells great,” he said of the food on the coffee table.
“Thanks. I hope you like it.” And she did. Despite the angry way in which they’d parted and the constant annoyances he caused her since he was released from the hospital, it was fun watching him get so excited over small things. Before the accident, it would have taken a drastic improvement in the stock market or the opportunity to travel abroad and do some skiing to elicit anything more than a benign, controlled smile from him.
Jerry dug into the breakfast she’d prepared for him, and Kim watched with delight as his expression changed from hopeful anticipation to pure ecstasy. It had taken some practice, and she was glad to see he’d finally mastered the use of a fork. His attitude changed after he sampled the coffee.
“No offense,” he said, “but this is disgusting.”
Kim put down her fork. “You always loved black coffee—said you couldn’t make it through the day without at least three cups.”
Jerry grew quiet. “I told you before...I’m a different man now.” He looked at her with such silent intensity it seemed as though he was trying to convey some truth, some deep meaning along with the words.
The silence stretched out. Was he trying to win her back? Did he remember what he’d done to cause their breakup? For that matter, did he even remember their breakup? Was he telling her that the accident had made him a changed man and that he wouldn’t cheat on her again?
No, she was convinced he remembered nothing from before the car crash. It was as if Gerald had received a personality transplant. Dr. Richmond had told her he may have suffered some brain injury, which would account for some unlikely behavior, but she’d never expected he’d be like a totally different person. Why, he even insisted on a different name for the new personality he’d become.
She could drive herself crazy if she tried to understand it. Perhaps it would be best to gradually reintroduce him to familiar things that might help him recall his past. In the meantime, she’d let him stay here until his body and mind healed enough for him to move back to his condominium without further injuring himself or burning the place down. And if she enjoyed the company of the sweet, thoughtful man who complimented her and made her laugh, what would be the harm in that? Before long, he would regain his memory and resume his relationship with that woman he’d taken to the motel.
Her teeth clenched at the memory, but she pushed aside the hurt feelings that arose whenever she thought of that fateful day. “Here,” she said, handing him her coffee mug. “Try mine. Maybe you’ll like it better.”
He sipped it, and she watched as he touched his lips to the rim of the mug and drank the sweetened beverage. After he sampled it, his handsome mouth turned downward at both corners. He handed it back to her. “No thanks.”
She got up and went to the kitchen for a glass of orange juice. When she came back, he was staring at her once again in that odd, penetrating way of his.
She set the juice down in front of him, but he ignored it. “I’m sorry you’re having to miss work on account of me.”
At first she thought he was joking. The old Gerald would have expected as much as his due for merely existing. But when she saw how sincere he was, she gave a little shrug. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” .
“Did Gerald...do I have any relatives? Maybe someone else I could stay with?”
She’d answered so many questions about mundane, everyday things that she was surprised it had taken so long for him to get around to asking about his past. Perhaps what she told him would help jar his memory. And although anything she said to him at this point would be new information, she didn’t want to shock or hurt him.
“Your parents are gone.” At his questioning glance, she added, “Your father left when you were a baby, and your mother passed away when you were a teenager. Your only relative is your Aunt Rowena who lives in a nursing home.” She didn’t bother to mention that he would have had a wife if only he hadn’t been such a jerk.
He twisted on the sofa, moving his leg to the cleared portion of the coffee table so he could face her. “What about you?”
“What about me?” Forgetting about the wobbly chair leg, she scooted back into the cushions, causing the furniture to resettle with a thunk.
Jerry moved forward as if to catch her in case she fell.
“I’m okay,” she told him. “It’s done this before.”
“Why don’t you sit over here?” Jerry said, patting the sofa cushion beside him. “I’d feel terrible if you got hurt.”
Kim had to do a double take. It was hard to believe this was the same man who’d made a grid of dates and took bets from their co-workers on when the chair would finally collapse under her. When she saw that he wasn’t joking, she took him up on his offer.
“This place could use a little work,” he said once she’d settled beside him. “I noticed a loose step on the front porch, and last night when you went upstairs to your room, the banister swayed under your hand. If you’ll show me where your tools are, I’ll try to fix some of the stuff around here.”
He was right. There were quite a few things that needed fixing in this old farmhouse. But Gerald had never before offered to do any of the handiwork, partly because he considered it beneath him to do “common labor” and partly because he hated the big white farmhouse she’d bought outside the city. He kept insisting that they would buy a newer, bigger condominium to settle into once they were married. Gerald had considered it wasted effort to fix up a house he wouldn’t ultimately live in. Although she’d agreed to their engagement, they’d never finished working out where they would live.
And now he was offering to roll up his sleeves and be her live-in handyman despite the encumbrance of a cast on his leg.
“There’s no need,” she said. Eventually, she would get around to doing the chores herself, or she would hire someone to do the work after she was finished with the big project she was working on at the office. “I’ll take care of it before long.”
But that wasn’t soon enough to suit Jerry. He made her promise to show him where she kept her tools so he could start work after breakfast.
He shifted on the sofa so that he faced her. Once situated, he decided instead to pursue the line of questioning he’d started earlier. The more he knew about her, the easier it would be to protect her. And having her think he suffered from amnesia was a convenient tool for getting the information he needed. “We never finished talking about you. Tell me about your family.”
As she told him about her father, Maxwell, her young stepmother, Carmen, and her own single-child status, Jerry soaked up the warmth of the room as well as the warmth in her voice.
The house and its furnishings reminded him of her. It was simple and unpretentious, but still classic and welcoming. The old white frame house was situated in the middle of forty acres, about half of which were cleared. A small lake behind the house invited quiet introspection and meditation at its edge, and a barn gave shelter to the assorted wild geese and ducks that congregated near the water.
It was the inside of the house that most clearly displayed Kim’s personality. The blue overstuffed sofa and chair invited inhabitants to put their feet up, and the wood theme of floors and half-paneled walls gave an earthy feel. It was a house a man could feel comfortable in, but the ruffled curtains and thick blue-and-cream rug saved it from appearing masculine.
He knew from his forays into her library that she was an eclectic reader, sampling everything from the classics to science fiction, mystery and romance. He had been pleased to note that not only did a Bible sit among her collection, but it appeared by its worn condition to be well-read.
As she told him about her father’s thriving bakery business whose distribution covered a three-state region, Jerry took in the assorted magazine pictures of horses adorning the walls. On the fireplace mantel sat a framed photo of a young girl perched atop a pony while a man stood nearby holding the reins and smiling down at his tiny charge.
When she finished describing their planned expansion of the company, he changed the subject. “Why don’t you have any horses in the barn?”
She rolled her eyes and lolled back against the sofa. “That’s one reason I bought this place...so I’d have a place to keep the horses I’ve always wanted. But the business expansion keeps me so busy I don’t have time to care for an animal right now. Not even a cat.”
“How long until you’ve finished the expansion?”
“As soon as six months or as long as two or even three years, depending on how things go.”
He scratched his head. “I noticed a rosebush at the corner of the house. Do you ever take time to stop and smell the roses?”
Now it was Kim’s turn to scratch her head. If this question had been asked before Gerald’s accident, she would have known he was joking. But now...well, she just wasn’t sure.
“You are lecturing me about stopping to smell the roses?”
He grinned, the action deepening the small dimple in his left cheek. His whiskery cheek. Kim had never seen him unshaven before, and she couldn’t help noticing that the casual look on him was anything but casual. It made him look darker, more brooding, and more powerful than the clean-cut, three-piece-suited man she was accustomed to. Not even the gentle charm of his grin could lessen her gut-level response. In fact, the contrast actually emphasized the depth of his blue eyes and the sharp angle of his jaw.
“Does that surprise you?”
“Of course it does. You’re the workaholic pot calling me a black kettle. You were the one who talked Daddy and me into the expansion in the first place.”
Jerry frowned slightly as he took in what she was saying. “Did I work with you and your father at Barnett’s Bakery?”
“Yes,” she said gently, “and you worked just as hard or harder than both of us to get the merger started.”
“I did?”
Kim nodded. Her bangs fell forward and tickled her eyebrows. She hadn’t taken the time to mousse her hair this morning after her shower, and now her chin-length auburn hair swung softly around her face in free abandon.
“Then it’s about time I changed my ways,” he confessed.
“That’ll be the day.” The doctor hadn’t said whether Jerry would remember his recovery period once he regained his previous memories. However, Kim felt sure that once he recalled the events and motivations that had led him to become the person he’d once been, he would most likely go back to being the old Gerald. As for right now, he probably felt vulnerable and lost, which accounted for this new attitude of his.
“No, I’m serious.”
He touched her arm, and Kim shrank from the warmth of his touch. No matter how appealing he might be at the moment, she knew that, like a puppy that eventually outgrows its cuteness, Jerry would leave behind the innocence and charm that now warmed her heart. She expected he would probably also go back to the woman he’d been seeing. Her gesture didn’t go unnoticed by Jerry, and he removed his hand from her arm.
“It’s obvious that you and Gerald...uh, you and I...have our priorities mixed up. It’s impossible to enjoy the good things we have when we’re so busy working to acquire more.”
Kim narrowed her eyes at him. Same face, same hair, same body, and same gestures. If she didn’t know better, she’d think this was Gerald’s twin. The good twin.
“So I think it would do us both good to attend church this Sunday,” he continued. “You know, get in touch with our inner selves and make peace with the Big Guy for forgetting about all the good stuff He’s done for us. I understand He gets really ticked when people ignore Him.”
“Church?”
“Yeah. You know, the place with the steeple and the stained-glass windows,” he said as if she was the one who needed her memory jogged. “Or temple, if that’s your preference.”
It had been a while since she’d last attended church. Ever since she’d become involved in the expansion plans, she had either worked on Sundays or been too tired to get up in time to go to the morning service, so she was certainly overdue. As for Jerry, it was possible that he was searching for something to fill a void in his soul. Perhaps if he found spiritual peace, it would stay with him even after he regained his memory. Although she herself didn’t want to take another chance by becoming involved with him again, she hoped any such comfort he got from church would help make him a better person—both for himself and for the next woman in his life.
“Okay,” she said. “We’ll go to church this Sunday, but you have to shave first.”
Sunday morning, Kim set out a can of shaving cream and a fresh razor on the bathroom counter. Then she went into the living room to read the paper before getting dressed for church.
A moment later, he announced, “This is a leg razor.” A long pause followed. “A pink one.”
“That’s okay,” she told him. “It’ll still do the job.”
“But the guy on TV said a man needs a swiveling head.”
Kim stood up and fastened the robe tighter around her waist. Going to the bathroom, she reminded herself that he’d be returning to his own apartment in another week or two. Then she’d be able to pick up the pieces of her life.
As she entered the tiny room midway down the hall, he smiled and proceeded to make a long sweep with the razor that extended from his left ear, down to his chin, and back up to his right ear.
Kim gasped. “Good heavens, you look like you’re trying to slit your throat. Give me that razor.”
He did as he was told, and she reached up to blot the nick on his chin with a square of toilet paper.
“Here, I’ll show you how to do it.” He obligingly turned toward her as she lifted the razor to his face. “You have to take short, smooth strokes. Otherwise, you’ll look like you shaved with a kitchen blender.”
As she stood close to him, she was aware of just how tall he was. Even stooping over the crutches, he was tall enough to make her arms ache as she reached up to him. Her hand quivered, and she drew back.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
His brow furrowed, and Kim was hauntingly reminded of the strong physical attraction she’d felt the first time she saw Gerald. It had been lust at first sight, but even that didn’t compare to the raw physical craving she was feeling right now. Sure, he looked the same, except for a healing red line above his eyebrow and a few lingering bruises sprinkled across his body. But there was something different about him. About the way he looked at her as if he was committing the tiniest details of her image to memory.
Kim gave herself a mental shake. He was probably just recognizing something familiar in her features and trying to use them to dredge up lost memories. If she wasn’t careful, she might find herself falling for the temporary stranger in her bathroom.
“It’s just awkward... standing here like this,” she said at last. “My arms are getting tired.”
“What if I sit here,” he said, putting the lid down, “and you sit on the side of the tub?”
That would put them at about the same level. Perhaps if he wasn’t towering over her, his closeness wouldn’t have such a strange effect on her. She propped his crutches behind the door and took a seat next to him.
Once again, she lifted the razor to his face. As she stroked it over his skin, she thought of the many times she’d watched him shave after he’d spent the night at her place. A man of habit, Gerald had a particular procedure for almost everything he did. It was as if he turned something as basic as grooming into a science. It was hard to imagine that—after so many years of shaving in a certain fashion—it hadn’t become second nature, something for which he didn’t have to remember the steps in order to do it.
“Do like this,” she said, and twisted her mouth to one side.
Jerry stared at her lips and followed suit as she moved the razor over his flattened cheek. For some reason, he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her mouth. Sometimes, he noticed, when she was dressed up, her lips were a deeper red. This morning, however, she hadn’t done whatever she normally did to transform her appearance. Her eyelashes, though dark, weren’t as black as usual, and her eyelids were free of the pale brown shadows that made her irises appear as dark as the devil’s food cake he’d sampled last night. Up close like this, he could see the sprinkling of freckles across her nose that she usually managed to hide.
Fascinating as all that was, it was her lips that held his attention. Though the rest of her features were angular and sharply defined, her mouth was soft and full, reminding him of the tempting swells that rounded out the front of her upper garments. A tempting shade of pink, her lips somehow beckoned him.
She directed him to lift his chin so she could shave under his jaw. He did as told, his gaze never leaving her mouth as she removed the last of his whiskers.
Her lips tightened, and her tongue darted out. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
“No, everything’s perfect.” Knowing that, as all humans, she must have flaws, Jerry found it hard to believe she could seem so incredibly perfect.
“Oh, good. I was beginning to think I had egg on my face.”
He couldn’t picture her with that yellow food marring her appearance. However, he remembered watching her eat pancakes with syrup this morning. He wondered if a remnant of the sticky sweet stuff clung to her lips, and the thought made him want to taste them to find out.
Her tongue darted out again as she watched him watching her.
Instinct took over. Jerry impulsively leaned forward and touched his mouth to hers. Sure enough, a hint of maple offered itself to him as their lips pressed together.
It was wonderful...much better than pancakes. He tried without success to compare it to a sensation he may have experienced before. The closest he could come was being fed peeled grapes while reclining upon a pristine chaise, but even that was a mere shadow to what was happening here in this small room. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, the idea of combining this feeling with lying on the chaise made his pulse pound in his temples.
If he’d thought it was great before, Kim made it glorious when she returned the gesture and tasted him. His breathing quickened as Kim’s hands went around his neck, urging him closer. Moving so that his bum leg stretched out to one side, he reached out to her, his hands gripping her sides as he pulled her to him and positioned her between his thighs.
With his hands lightly touching her ribs, he allowed his thumbs to explore the tender flesh that he’d admired since the first time she leaned over him at the hospital. Although the white terry-cloth robe shielded her skin from him, he savored the softness and was surprised when the centers of the two hillocks hardened beneath his exploring fingers. This wasn’t heaven, he knew, but it wasn’t far from it.
Kim gasped, and Jerry could tell she was experiencing a similar quickening in her breathing. She squirmed in his arms, and just when he felt as though he might explode, she pulled back, breaking the contact of their lips. The look she gave him was one of fear and shame.
“Oh, my gosh,” she said, standing abruptly, “I can’t believe I just let that happen.”
CHAPTER THREE
ORGAN music swelled around them as they settled themselves into a pew near the aisle of the historic church. Jerry laid the crutches under the pew in front of him and stretched out his right leg. The orange covering of his cast practically glowed neon where the severed pants seams didn’t meet. Despite his less-than-immaculate appearance, Jerry seemed pleased with the way he looked in the three-piece suit.
“Cool,” he’d said when he caught sight of himself in the mirror this morning. If the old Gerald’s personality had returned, Kim was certain he would have insisted on waiting until his leg healed before going out in public like this.
He leaned toward her and whispered, “You tasted good.”
Kim fidgeted beside him. If they were to get through these next couple of weeks, she would have to make sure he understood the ground rules. Otherwise, she’d be right back where she started... falling for a low-down, womanizing, arrogant—
She stopped herself from further mental tirades. Besides, it wasn’t proper to think evil thoughts in church. Looking over at the man who sat so erectly beside her, she realized that he currently was none of the descriptions that had just played through her mind. But he wouldn’t remain this way. Kim wanted his memory to return in order for his healing to be complete, but she couldn’t help wishing he’d stay like this.
The doctor seemed confident his memories would eventually return. And when they did, she didn’t want to be involved with a man who was a low-down, arrogant womanizer.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she told him.
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” He looked down, his countenance thoughtful. “Next time, I’ll make myself a pancake. But, you know, syrup just doesn’t taste as good on a pancake as it does on you.”
Kim stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. And then she remembered that, in a sense, he had. “I’m talking about kissing. I realize you’ve forgotten our past, just like you’ve forgotten everything else,” she said gently. “But it’s important that you know we’ve tried this before, and it just didn’t work out.”
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