Falcon's Lair

“Glad to do it. You’ll get a bill,” he added with a grin. “She’s in room 520 if you want to go see her.”

When he entered the silent room that had a small light burning in the adjoining bathroom, he closed the door quietly behind him and moved to the bed.

“Ben?” she asked, turning toward him.

His heart seemed to lurch and stop and then start beating again. She was propped against the pillows, the head of the bed cranked up so she was almost upright. Her flame-colored hair spilled over the pillow and her shoulders. In the white hospital gown she looked more defenseless than before. Her foot was elevated, a lump beneath the sheet.

Jennifer turned, her pulse jumping as Ben Falcon’s broad shoulders were a dark silhouette in the wide doorway. This stranger was a lifeline to her. The doctors had been reassuring, and she knew she was fortunate to be alive, from what Ben had said about the wreck, but when she tried to think about the past and nothing came to mind, a cold terror gripped her. She watched the tall man who was little more than a stranger, yet now so important to her. He crossed the room, and she couldn’t resist the urge to reach out for his hand.

His strong warm grip was reassuring as his fingers curled around hers, and she covered his hand with her free hand while he leaned one hip against the bed. “Thank you for staying,” she said, running her fingers over his large knuckles and reluctantly releasing his hand.

“I’m here and I’ll stay with you,” he said casually, tossing his coat on the back of the chair and pulling the chair close beside the bed.

“I know I’m interfering in your life.”

“It’s the middle of the night in a snowstorm, so there’s not a lot I could be doing if I were home,” he said lightly as he sat down beside her. He touched her hair.

“I feel like there’s something I’m supposed to be doing, but I can’t recall what it is. Something urgent.”

“It’ll come to you.”

“Ben, I know your name, but I don’t know mine.”

“You will. From what Kyle told me, you should wake up in the morning and have your memory back.”

“They said that I should sit up, and a nurse checks my blood pressure every thirty minutes.”

“I’ll sit here and talk to you.”

Relief surged in her. She knew she was interfering in his life, yet she was thankful to have him with her because she gained a sense of security from his calmness. Deep down she felt as if she had known him before the last few hours even though he had been firm in his answer that they had never met until he found her at the wreck.

“Every time I close my eyes, I feel as if I’ll lose you and I’ll be all alone in the world.”

“I’m here to stay,” he said, leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees. She placed her hand on his shoulder lightly.

“Thank you, Ben. I try not to think about tomorrow. I don’t have any money or any family or friends until my memory returns. I don’t know how I’ll pay for this hospital room.”

“I already have.”

She raised her head off the pillow abruptly to stare at him. “I’ll pay you back. I don’t know what job I had, but I must have done something. I remember keeping books and filing taxes—why can I recall my work and not know my name?”

“It’ll all come to you,” he said with narrowed eyes, as if something she said was causing him thought. “I’ll take care of you until you remember.”

“You’ve been good to me, and I know I can trust you. You must be an incredibly good person to take care of a stranger this way.”

He startled her with a sudden grin.

“What’s funny?”

“What makes you so certain you can trust me?” he asked dryly.

“Because my life was in your hands from the time you found me at the scene of the wreck until the helicopter arrived,” she replied quietly.

His grin faded and he studied her solemnly, his dark-eyed gaze direct and disturbing. She was aware of him as a man, remembering clearly the moment in his kitchen when he had been about to kiss her. And she had wanted him to kiss her. In the dim light of the room, his cheeks were in shadow, his prominent cheekbones highlighted softly, his lashes dark smudges over his midnight eyes.

“Jennifer, I may know something about you,” he said quietly, and as she gazed into his dark eyes, she felt as if she were about to step into a cavern filled with unknown terrors. A chilling premonition of disaster gripped her.

“From the tone of your voice, maybe I’m better off not knowing,” she said, and the look he shot her confirmed her suspicions.

Three

Ben stood and walked to the window, gazing at the snow tumbling outside, his hands jammed into his pockets. She waited, yet with every second of silence, her dread increased.

When he turned around, his dark eyes sparked with anger that made something inside her want to throw her hands up and tell him to stop. Instead she waited quietly.

“When you tried to get out of bed, you said you had to find Ben Falcon. You were on your way to see me.”

She frowned, staring at him. “You said we don’t know each other.”

“No, we don’t, but I can make a guess why you were driving to meet me. I think my father sent you. He’s hired you to get me to go home to work for him. He’s done this before.”

“Who is your father?”

“Weston Falcon. A few years ago he was a U.S. senator. He lives in Dallas and is CEO of Falcon Enterprises, which is primarily oil and cattle.”

It sounded as though Ben was discussing a friend of his, yet Jennifer could hear the tight thread of anger in his voice. Feeling frustrated, she shook her head. “That means nothing to me. I don’t remember.”

Ben looked out the window again. “After you were admitted, I called him and got an answering machine. I left a message that you’re in the hospital here. I called one of his employees and left the same message with him, so by tomorrow we should hear from my father. As soon as the storm abates, he’ll send someone to pick you up.”

Ben’s broad shoulders were silhouetted against the snowy window and he looked solid and reassuring, yet she guessed there was a great deal he was leaving unsaid. When he turned around to look into her eyes, she became aware of his maleness, and she wondered about his effect on her. Was it because of her helplessness and his comfort? Or was it a sheer physical magnetism? He didn’t seem happy with her, yet he had been kind to her, so the anger had to be bound up with his father.

“When daylight comes, I’m going home. You can wait here if you want— I’ll take care of the bill. I know my father will send someone for you.”

Panic gripped her and she knew it was unreasonable, but it was frightening to not be able to remember anything and to not know anyone.

He moved closer to the bed and looked down at her, touching her knuckles lightly with his fingertips. “Or if you’d feel better about it, I’ll take you home with me until someone comes to get you.”

She closed her eyes and caught his hand in hers. “Thank you,” she whispered, feeling a surge of relief.

Ben experienced tiny sparks from her clasp. He looked at the top of her head, her shining hair. She seemed so vulnerable that sympathy rose inside him for her, yet he knew if she worked for Weston, she was tough and intelligent. He should walk out tonight, tell her goodbye and save himself some trouble. But he couldn’t do it.

He went to sit down and she watched him, meeting his steady gaze. “I know I should stay here, but I feel more secure with you.”

A strange humorless smile flitted across his face. He settled back on the chair. “You won’t when your memory returns.”

“You don’t get along with your father.”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t. Weston is ruthless, determined and unrelenting. He’s been incredibly successful in business, and he did it on his own. He came from a poor farm background. My grandmother was a Comanche, my grandfather had a tiny farm that finally failed. Weston has built an empire and he was determined that he would raise his sons to run parts of it exactly the way he had, only, neither of his sons were carbon copies of him.”