The Heiress and the Sheriff (15 page)

He nodded. “I hope you've been feeling well. Any headaches lately? Or blurry vision?”

“Not for a couple of days. And then it was only a light headache.”

“Good,” he said with a smile. “Sounds like you're making progress.”

“That's what I wanted to discuss with you. Do you think I'm well enough to go home now?”

His smile faded to a frown as he tapped his pen against the ink blotter. “I suppose it would be possible. But why? Are you starting to remember?”

Gabrielle glumly shook her head. “Not anything. I sometimes have vague impressions fly through my head. But nothing I can hold on to.”

He propped his elbows on the desktop and looked at her frankly. “Then why would you want to go back to California? You call it home, yet you don't know anyone there. Even if you found friends or relatives, they would be virtual strangers to you. Until your memory returns.”

It was obvious he didn't agree with the idea of her going back anytime soon. Desperation surged through her. “Do you think seeing someone from my past might jar my memory?”

He considered her question for a moment. “Not necessarily. In fact, something or someone from your past might be the reason you haven't regained your memory.”

She leaned forward in the chair, a puzzled frown on her face. “What do you mean?”

“I'm not a neurologist or a psychotherapist, Gabrielle, but I have studied a little about these problems. There might be something or someone in your past you don't want to deal with. Subconsciously blocking it out of your mind could be your way of dealing with the unpleasantness.”

She let out a long breath. “So in other words, you're telling me you don't think going back to California is a good idea. Until I remember who and what I'm going back to?”

“That's just my opinion, Gabrielle. But I can understand your urgency. And if your amnesia continues on, I can see where you'll eventually have to go back to gather your identification and tend to business such as bills and so forth.” He studied her more closely. “Is that what's worrying you? Your financial situation? If it is, you shouldn't be concerned. My father will see that everything is taken care of for you.”

Gabrielle gasped at the generosity. “Oh, no! That's not my worry. And I'd never allow Ryan to pay any debts I might have incurred before I came here. No, I guess I'm just getting a little desperate to learn who I am.”

She had to leave here, she thought frantically. She couldn't go on being so close to Wyatt. He was in her blood like a disease; she wouldn't be able to resist him for long. And if she didn't resist him…well, she hated to think how much deeper she could fall in love with the man.

The doctor smiled gently at her. “I suspect with each day that passes you're learning more about yourself. You just don't realize it.”

Oh, yes. She was learning what she wanted out of life. Who she wanted. And she had to put a stop to it. Wyatt would only use her until the passion between them faded. Then it would all be over. She'd have no past or future. She couldn't let that happen.

Rising to her feet, Gabrielle clutched the edge of the desk with both hands. “Isn't there some sort of treatment they can give me at the hospital to make me remember? Shock treatment? Or what if you injected me with Pentothal? Isn't that supposed to make people spill their guts about themselves?”

The faint smile on his face disappeared and his expression turned to one of real concern. “Gabrielle, these are very extreme measures you're talking about. Shock treatments are rarely used nowadays. Anyway, they would further erase your memory. Sodium thiopental might have you reciting your past while you were under the influence of the drug, but, like hypnosis, you might not remember anything once it wore off. Why have you suddenly become so desperate? I thought you were happy here on the Double Crown?”

Heat crept into her cheeks. “I'm not ungrateful, Matthew. Believe me, I love your family. And Rosita and Ruben. Everyone is so good to me. Just like I belong here. But it bothers me that I don't belong. If I stay much longer I'll be sponging. That's something I don't want to do.”

He made a dismissive wave with one hand. “Claudia spends more on her weekly visits to the hairdresser than you could possibly eat in three months. Believe me, Gabrielle, you're not costing the Fortunes anything. And even if you were, we have plenty.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and pressed her fingertips against her forehead. “Matthew, I feel like I'm
stuck. I can't have any future until I know what was going on in my past. Can I?”

Studying her troubled face, the young doctor leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “I suppose that depends on what sort of future you're talking about. You do need to know what sort of education you've had for job purposes. And of course you need to know if you have family out there who might be worried and trying to locate you.”

Her eyes hardened. “They're not!”

Matthew's brows lifted. “How could you know that if you don't remember?”

She realized she was almost angry. Why? It didn't make sense. “You sound like Wyatt now,” she muttered. Shoving back her tousled hair, she went on, “It's pretty obvious no one is looking for me. I've been gone from California for several weeks now and no one has filed a missing persons report with the police. Wyatt has kept a careful watch for a bulletin on me. None has shown up. That's how much I'm wanted.”

The doctor didn't say anything to that. Instead he leaned forward in his chair, studied her for a few more moments, then said, “I was under the impression you and Wyatt had become interested in each other. I had the idea you would stay here. Because of him.”

It was all Gabrielle could do to keep from groaning aloud. If only Matthew knew just how interested she was in Wyatt. Turning her back to the doctor, she said, “I understand you and your brothers have been friends with Wyatt since childhood. You ought to know as well as I do that Wyatt isn't interested in settling down with any woman.”

There was a long pause before Matthew finally replied. “Sometimes a man's mind can be changed, Gabrielle. Especially by the right woman.”

She swallowed at the painful lump in her throat. “Well, I'm by no means special.” She drew in a shaky breath. “So I guess what I need to know the most from you is if I'm well enough to travel. The rest I'll…have to deal with when I get to California.”

He sighed. “If you're that determined to leave, then I suppose I have to agree you're well enough to fly back to California. No driving, though.”

She turned back around to look at him. “You said it was okay to drive today to Wyatt's office. Why can't I rent a car and drive back to California? That's obviously how I came.”

He shook his head. “You only drove to his office and back. If you'd gotten blurry vision or a headache, all you had to do was pull over and use the cellular to call the ranch. Heading across country for more than fifteen-hundred miles would be quite different. It would be too physically taxing. If you want to go anytime soon, you'll have to fly.”

Gabrielle did some swift calculating in her head. “I suppose flying one way wouldn't cost much more than renting a car for three days. And since I don't have a penny to my name, it doesn't make a whole lot of difference. One way or the other I'm at the mercy of your father. I'll ask him about loaning me the money for a plane ticket. And I promise I'll pay him back just as quickly as I can.”

Matthew left his chair and came around the desk to stand in front of Gabrielle. “Any one of us would be glad to give you the money, Gabrielle. As I said before, money is not a concern with the Fortunes. But we do want to see you well and happy.”

Her gaze dropped to her feet. If Matthew realized she was running from Wyatt, she couldn't help it. “Thank you, Matthew. And I will be…happy. I promise.”

“I truly hope so, Gabrielle.”

She glanced up at him at the same time her eyes filled with tears—but before they could fall onto her cheeks, she hurried away from him and out of the study.

W
yatt was sitting at his desk, contemplating the letters he'd sent off in an attempt to locate his mother, when the telephone rang. When he answered it, Matthew was on the other end.

“Hello, Matthew. What's up? Do you have that list for me?”

“Yes. I know you asked for it more than a week ago, Wyatt, but trying to remember that far back was harder than I thought. I've gone through my old address book and also my senior college yearbook. I couldn't find any woman with the name of Megan Brown.”

“I really didn't expect you to, Matthew. The woman obviously used a phony name. I'll start with the ones you've listed. Did you have any addresses to go with any of them?”

“Three or four. But I doubt they'll be up to date after all these years. Dammit, Wyatt, this is like trying to find a needle in a haystack. It's hopeless. Do you honestly think the Megan Brown who registered at the sperm bank could be some woman from my past?”

“Maybe it does sound hopeless. But I have to cover every angle.”

Wyatt closed his eyes and rubbed the burning lids. The past week had been even worse than the one before. If his job didn't wind up killing him, his desperate need to see Gabrielle would. “What do you want to do, Matthew, just
roll over and give up? Just forget about finding Bryan or Taylor's mother?”

The other man sighed wearily, then said in a choked voice, “No. I can't give up. Claudia is still living in the penthouse in San Antonio. She's little more than civil to me these days.”

“Claudia is a woman,” Wyatt said, his voice full of acid.

“She's thinking about herself. When you get right down to it, that's what all of them do.”

“Claudia is hurting,” Matthew tried to reason with his friend.

“And what the hell are you doing? Laughing about it all? Dancing a Bob Will's two-step every night?” Wyatt sighed and pressed his fingers harder against his aching eyes. “I'm sorry, Matthew. Your wife's behavior is none of my business. If you have the list ready, drop it by my office tomorrow. Gonzolez and I will get to work on it and see what we can come up with.”

“I thought you might come out to the ranch and pick it up tonight,” Matthew said.

Wyatt dropped his hand from his face. “Why? Is something else the matter?”

“No,” he answered in a careful tone. “I just wanted you to come to the ranch this evening—if you could.”

Wyatt drew in a deep breath and let it out. “Well, I can't. I'm busy.” He glanced down at the letter lying next to the phone. He wasn't going to write his mother tonight. He had to give himself time to think about it, prepare himself for another rejection. But he couldn't go to the Double Crown. Gabrielle didn't want them to be together. And Wyatt sure as hell wasn't going to beg her to change her mind.

“Oh. Well in that case, I'll drop by your office in the morning.”

“I'd appreciate it, Matthew. I know you're a busy man too.”

“It's not that I'm busy. I really wanted you to come out to the ranch this evening because…well, I thought you might want to see Gabrielle before she leaves tomorrow.”

Wyatt shot straight to his feet. “Before she leaves tomorrow! What are you saying? Leaves for where?”

The line went silent for a moment, then Matthew said in a troubled voice, “I figured you probably didn't know. She talked to me a few minutes ago to see if I would agree to allow her to travel. She's already made plans to fly to California tomorrow.”

“Why? Has her memory returned? What's happened to her?”

“You. I think.”

“Me!”

“I don't think that should shock you, Wyatt. I've been going through some hell of my own here lately, but I'm not blind. And neither are you, old friend.”

Wyatt didn't say anything. He felt frozen.

Matthew went on. “Gabrielle is running away from you because she thinks you don't care about her. I had the foolish notion you did. But then, I've been wrong before. I can't even make my own wife happy,” he added bitterly.

Wyatt's lips felt stiff when he finally forced himself to speak. “Did you decide she was healthy enough to travel, or is she going against your wishes?”

“No. I gave her the okay. I could see how desperate she was.”

Anger and pain boiled up in him. “I told her not to leave without contacting me. She knows she's still under suspicion!”

“Hell, Wyatt! Suspicion of what? She's hardly an ax murderer!”

“No. But she could be something—” He didn't go on. He couldn't. All he could think about was the future without Gabrielle in it, and the blackness wasn't a pretty sight.

“Forget it, Matthew. I'll be out there in a bit. And whatever the hell you do, don't tell her I'm coming!”

Matthew usually hated it when people hung up on him, but this time when the phone slammed dead in his ear, he smiled.

 

Miles away from the Double Crown in a cheap motel room, Clint Lockhart paced across the worn carpet. His long stride ate up the small space between the two walls as his blue eyes shot daggers at the voluptuous woman sitting on the edge of the sagging mattress.

In the past, Clint would already have had her in the sack. She liked rough sex, and he used to take pleasure in giving her what she wanted. Each time she'd begged him for more, it was like stabbing a knife in Ryan Fortune's chest.

For years now Clint had been waiting to get his revenge on the Fortunes. To him, the old man, Kingston, had been nothing but greedy, stealing the Lockhart family ranch while pretending to be a friend and neighbor. A ranch that Clint would have inherited one day.

It did not matter to him that his older sisters had married into the Fortune family. Janine and Mary Ellen had been fools, but not him. He was determined to make the Fortunes pay for all the wealth they had stolen from him.

But Ryan didn't give a damn about his cheating wife anymore, and that had taken most of the fun out of the sexual games he'd played with Sophia. That—and her greedy, lying ways. In the past few months he'd learned she was a bit too much like himself to suit his taste.

“What do you take me for, Sophia? I'm not one of those
wimpy fools you lead around by the nose. I'm getting damn tired of your stalling! I want the money we agreed on.”

“Clint,” she cooed in a patronizing tone, “I've told you these things take time.”

He stopped in his tracks and glared at her. “Time! Don't talk to me about time. I've waited years to get my revenge on the Fortunes. A hell of a lot longer than you have! And I'm fed up with waiting. If you don't come up with something soon—”

Rising to her feet, Sophia planted her hands on her hips and faced him. “You'll what?” she taunted brazenly. “Botch another kidnapping?” She laughed, sneering at him. “That's just what we both need!”

When Clint had first come up with the plan to kidnap Ryan's grandson, Bryan, he'd thought it a surefire way to get millions from the Fortunes. But everything about the plan had gone haywire. First they'd stolen the wrong baby. Then the thugs Sophia had hired to help them carry out the kidnapping had bungled the switch for the money and had nearly gotten caught by the FBI. If the idiots hadn't escaped, he and Sophia would, more than likely, be in prison now.

Two strides had him towering over her. At his sides, anger clenched his hands into tight, angry fists. “If you hadn't messed that whole thing up, we could have already been spending millions of the Fortunes' money! Instead, we're getting old waiting around for those half-assed lawyers of yours to get a divorce settlement.”

Looking up at him, her pink pouty lips formed a catty smile. “It'll be good when we get it. I promise.” Her hand slid up his arm and her fingers toyed temptingly with the dark auburn hair brushing his collar. “Now, why don't we forget about money for a while. It's been too long since we've, uh…connected.” She purred the invitation.

His blue eyes hardened even more as he slung her hand away from him. “Yeah, and it's gonna be a helluva lot longer if you don't pay up, Sophia.”

Furious that she could no longer entice him with her sexual charms, she crossed the room and plucked up a pack of cigarettes from a scarred dresser. Of all the men she'd bedded, none of them had come close to satisfying her the way Clint did. The macho cowboy was good-looking and arrogant. She'd reveled in his lovemaking. But now it appeared their bedroom games were over, and he was getting too greedy and demanding for his own good. She had to find a way to get him off her back. Get rid of him once and for all.

“All right, Clint, if you must know, I've agreed to settle with Ryan for twenty-five million. The lawyers will be drawing up the papers soon.”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he watched her jam a cigarette between her lips. “Twenty-five million! What happened to fifty-million? That's what we both agreed on. What the hell has come over you, Sophia?”

Shrugging, she took a deep drag on the cigarette and blew the smoke straight at him. “I'm almost busted and I don't like it. Twenty-five million is better than nothing. Besides, you just said you didn't want to wait any longer.”

Crossing the space between them, he snatched a handful of her strawberry-blond hair and tugged her face up close to his. “You'd better not be lying to me, Sophia. If you are, I'll find out. And when I do, I'll—”

“You'll what?” she taunted, a smug smile tilting her lips. “You're not going to do anything to me. I'm your link to the money. And we both know it.”

His hard blue eyes raked over her face for a few more moments, then he dropped his hold on her hair and stalked
to the door. “One of these days you're going to push me too far, Sophia,” he warned. “Just remember that.”

Her answering laugh followed him out the door.

 

Gabrielle had packed a small carryon bag for the trip to California. She'd boxed up all the clothes Maggie had given her, saying they should be donated to charity. When packing a few essentials, she had come across the Bible Wyatt had found in her car. It seemed to be the only link to her past. The Bible looked old. But not so ancient that the pages were tattered and yellowed. Gabrielle really couldn't be certain about the book's age. The fire that had turned her rental car into a pile of crisp aluminum had scorched the edges of the pages and parts of the leather covering. There was no way of telling what condition the book had been in before the flames had threatened to destroy it.

Wearily, she glanced up from where she sat in the courtyard. Evening shadows were beginning to lengthen on the ground in front of her feet. Soon it would be too dark to read. For the past thirty minutes she'd been leafing through the testament, reading a verse here and there, hoping by some miracle that something in the words would snap the chains binding her memory. She'd even gripped the book and prayed for God to help her.

If only her memory would return, she thought miserably. She wouldn't have to face an unknown life in California. She wouldn't even necessarily have to go back there. If she knew about herself she might have the courage—the right—to stay and try to win Wyatt's love. As it was, she couldn't convince him of her goodness. Not without a past to back it up.

Footsteps alerted her that someone was approaching the end of the courtyard, where she sat out of sight of the main
part of the house. Expecting it to be one of the bodyguards Ryan still had posted on the ranch, she glanced around briefly. Then her heart suddenly clutched.

Wyatt was walking slowly toward her. His face was grim. Black brows were drawn together above his hazel-green eyes, forming one long slash across his forehead. His lips were flat and hard, his jaw unmoving.

Deciding it would be a waste of time to bother with the niceties of a greeting, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Matthew told me you were leaving tomorrow,” he said cuttingly. “I wondered when I was going to hear about it. After you got to California?”

She blanched at his words. “I was going to call you in the morning before I caught my flight.”

“Really.”

She huffed out a breath. “Yes. Really.”

He sank down beside her on the swinging love seat. “What if I said you couldn't go?”

She glanced at him sharply and tried not to let the beautiful, rugged lines of his face sway her determination. “I haven't done anything wrong. You can't stop me.”

No. He couldn't legally stop her. He wasn't sure he could stop her any other way, or even if he should try. Everything inside him was sick and torn apart.

“Matthew says you're running away from me.”

Coming from Wyatt, the statement jolted her. It was one thing for Matthew and Maggie to see how she felt, but it was altogether different to expose her feelings to this hard man beside her.

“I can't continue to live here on the Double Crown forever. It wouldn't be good for the Fortunes, or me.”

Her fingers were nervously sliding up and down her thighs. He itched to place his hand over them and still their
movement. But he didn't. He knew once he touched her he wouldn't be able to stop.

“So, Matthew was wrong. Your going has nothing to do with me?”

How was she ever going to bear leaving this place and Wyatt behind? she wondered. The idea of never seeing his face, hearing his voice or touching him was crushing everything inside her.

“Matthew was a lot right,” she confessed in a small voice. Then, fixing her gaze on the bible in her lap, she went on, “I'm frightened of what you do to me, Wyatt. Of how you make me feel. I guess…I want you too much. And you…well, what you feel for me is skin-deep.”

There was pain in her voice. Wyatt hated to think he'd caused it. He didn't want Gabrielle ever to hurt. Over anything. Did that mean he loved her? Dear Lord, the answer was beyond him. He was a different man from the one he'd been before Gabrielle crashed into his life. Whether the difference in him was good or bad, he didn't know.