rose from the chair and pulled the blanket-robe higher around her shoulders, she wondered if anyone would see the photograph and recognize her. It wouldn't be wise to count on that, though. No, she needed to start planning what she was going to do once she was released from the hospital.
As she passed the nurses' station and turned down the corridor to her room, she decided to ask Inspector Armand to recommend a jeweler who would give her a good price for the antique brooch and topaz earrings she'd been wearing. Once she had money, then what? Should she stay in Nice and look for workâHeaven knew what kind? Or should she leave? And go where?
Distracted by the sound of a raised voice, she looked up from her absent contemplation of the floor. There was a man standing in the corridor directly ahead of her, not far from the door to her room. He was upset about something, judging from the anxious attempt by one of the nurses to placate him. Curious to learn what the fuss was all about, she took another look at the stranger.
Dressed in a sport coat in an elongated herringbone design, a beige brown tie of woven silk, and mocha trousers, he stood easily over six feet tall. His heavy-boned features were lean and angular, with none of the carved sleekness about them that might have persuaded her to consider him handsome. It was a hard face, an unforgiving face that gave the impression that cynicism lurked just below the surface. Yet there was something compelling about his looksâsomething ruthlessly masculineâthat she couldn't deny.
"I don't care whether you make a habit of losing patients or not," he said to the nurse, plainly unplacated. "But I suggest you find this oneânow!"
"Oui, m'sieur."
He turned on his heel, then stopped abruptly when he saw her walking toward them. Suddenly his eyes seemed more black than gray, with glass-sharp splinters of interest in them.
"Remy." His deep voice rumbled the name.
Who was he talking to? Was there someone behind her? She glanced back, but there was no one in the corridor. When she squared around, the man was there before her, his hands seizing her by the arms and pulling her to him, a harshness in their grip that spoke of feelings he had tried to control and couldn't. And she realized he was referring to her. She was Remy.
Too stunned by the discovery to resist, she let him gather her to him. The fine woolen texture of his sport coat against her cheek, the musky sandalwood fragrance of a man's cologne that clung to it, the faint tremors within himâthose and a dozen other impressions registered on her at once. But most of all she was struck by the overwhelming feeling that it was right for her to be in his arms. It was where she belonged.
Savoring the feeling, she leaned into him and let the hands that glided with such familiar ease over her back press her even closer to him. She was conscious of her pulse quickening in pleasure when he rubbed his mouth against the side of her hair.
"I was about to turn this hospital upside down looking for you, Remy."
Remy. It was the second time he'd called her that. Was that her name? She tried to remember, but she couldn't penetrate that wall of blankness to make it familiar.
She sensed his withdrawal an instant before his hands pushed her an arm's length away from him. She caught the glimmer of anger in his hardening expression, an anger that suggested he regretted the action that had swept her into his arms. Yet the light in his eyes remained dark and bright as his gaze traveled over her face in a quick inspection.
"The photo I saw showed your head in bandages." Reaching up, he traced one side of her forehead, which had earlier been swathed in gauze, his touch incredibly light and gentle.
She should know him, but she didn't. "Who are you?"
He stiffened as if she'd struck him, then pulled his hand back to his side, his mouth curving in a humorless smile. "Obviously someone you'd rather forget."
"That isn't what I
As she passed the nurses' station and turned down the corridor to her room, she decided to ask Inspector Armand to recommend a jeweler who would give her a good price for the antique brooch and topaz earrings she'd been wearing. Once she had money, then what? Should she stay in Nice and look for workâHeaven knew what kind? Or should she leave? And go where?
Distracted by the sound of a raised voice, she looked up from her absent contemplation of the floor. There was a man standing in the corridor directly ahead of her, not far from the door to her room. He was upset about something, judging from the anxious attempt by one of the nurses to placate him. Curious to learn what the fuss was all about, she took another look at the stranger.
Dressed in a sport coat in an elongated herringbone design, a beige brown tie of woven silk, and mocha trousers, he stood easily over six feet tall. His heavy-boned features were lean and angular, with none of the carved sleekness about them that might have persuaded her to consider him handsome. It was a hard face, an unforgiving face that gave the impression that cynicism lurked just below the surface. Yet there was something compelling about his looksâsomething ruthlessly masculineâthat she couldn't deny.
"I don't care whether you make a habit of losing patients or not," he said to the nurse, plainly unplacated. "But I suggest you find this oneânow!"
"Oui, m'sieur."
He turned on his heel, then stopped abruptly when he saw her walking toward them. Suddenly his eyes seemed more black than gray, with glass-sharp splinters of interest in them.
"Remy." His deep voice rumbled the name.
Who was he talking to? Was there someone behind her? She glanced back, but there was no one in the corridor. When she squared around, the man was there before her, his hands seizing her by the arms and pulling her to him, a harshness in their grip that spoke of feelings he had tried to control and couldn't. And she realized he was referring to her. She was Remy.
Too stunned by the discovery to resist, she let him gather her to him. The fine woolen texture of his sport coat against her cheek, the musky sandalwood fragrance of a man's cologne that clung to it, the faint tremors within himâthose and a dozen other impressions registered on her at once. But most of all she was struck by the overwhelming feeling that it was right for her to be in his arms. It was where she belonged.
Savoring the feeling, she leaned into him and let the hands that glided with such familiar ease over her back press her even closer to him. She was conscious of her pulse quickening in pleasure when he rubbed his mouth against the side of her hair.
"I was about to turn this hospital upside down looking for you, Remy."
Remy. It was the second time he'd called her that. Was that her name? She tried to remember, but she couldn't penetrate that wall of blankness to make it familiar.
She sensed his withdrawal an instant before his hands pushed her an arm's length away from him. She caught the glimmer of anger in his hardening expression, an anger that suggested he regretted the action that had swept her into his arms. Yet the light in his eyes remained dark and bright as his gaze traveled over her face in a quick inspection.
"The photo I saw showed your head in bandages." Reaching up, he traced one side of her forehead, which had earlier been swathed in gauze, his touch incredibly light and gentle.
She should know him, but she didn't. "Who are you?"
He stiffened as if she'd struck him, then pulled his hand back to his side, his mouth curving in a humorless smile. "Obviously someone you'd rather forget."
"That isn't what I
Similar Books
One Night in London
Caroline Linden
Brides of Aberdar
Christianna Brand
The Parthian
Peter Darman
Emergency: Wife Lost and Found
Carol Marinelli
Set Up For Love
Lynde Lakes
A Contract Bride's Triple Surprise
Reece Butler
Dangerous Inheritance
Dennis Wheatley
Billionaire Bad Boy
C.J. Archer
The Doomsters
Ross MacDonald
Mortal Danger
Ann Rule