His Unforgettable Fiancée (14 page)

“An hour?” Her pretty blue eyes widened with amazement. “It took me all afternoon.”

“I’ve found I’m a fast reader.” He flipped through the file on the tablet she’d handed him, squinting, as his vision still blurred occasionally. That had been the only problem in the meeting earlier. It helped that she used a large font. These profiles included both personal and business details. “I’m amazed you were able to put this together so quickly.”

“Yeah, well, I’m good with facts and faces, too.” She gave him a rundown of her report. As the gala was a fund-raiser, she’d sorted the VIP profiles based on net worth. While he read, she fell silent as the wonders of the Strip caught her attention. Once they left the excitement behind, she turned to him. “Where did you say we’re going?”

“To police headquarters. I made an appointment with the detective investigating my case.”

“Are you sure you want to do this today? With the gala tonight? You’re bound to see or hear something that makes your head hurt.”

“Knowledge is worth the pain. We’re here. And I want to get through this.” He hopped out of the SUV. She was waiting on the other side. He took her hand and led the way inside to the information desk. “We’re here to see Detective Hunt in Special Investigations,” he told the clerk.

The woman directed them to the third floor and Jackson led Grace to the elevators.

She turned concerned eyes on him. “I’m just worried it’ll ruin your mood for the gala tonight.”

“And it may help me to remember.” He pushed the up button. “You’re always talking about my mind providing clues. Well, this is what my mind is prompting me to do.”

“Okay.” She squeezed his hand once they were inside the elevator. “But don’t expect too much. They probably won’t be able to tell you much more than was in the report.”

Her concern touched him. He bent and kissed her softly. “I’m glad I have you with me.”

A bright sheen came into her eyes and for a heartbeat he thought she might cry. The very notion of his stalwart Grace in tears made his heart twist. But she smiled and the moment disappeared.

She started to say something when the elevator doors opened onto the second floor and a woman who looked to be in her fifties stepped on.

“Good morning,” she greeted them with a smile and pushed Five.

From a distance he heard Grace respond. The woman’s scent, an Oriental perfume with touches of citrus and rose, hit him the minute the doors opened. His head spun and pain exploded behind his eyes. He knew that perfume. From a long time ago. It belonged to someone important. Someone who represented warmth and comfort. He had the strongest desire to grab the woman and hold her close.

“Jackson.” Grace pulled on his hand.

He didn’t budge. The woman smiled kindly.

“Jackson!”

He blinked at Grace. “What?”

“We’re here.” She drew him off the elevator. “Are you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

The doors closed behind him. He swung around but the woman was gone.

“Jackson, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m fine.” He spotted a bench against the wall down the way and made his way to it. “Do you have one of my pain pills with you?”

“Yes.” She sat next to him and dug in her purse. “Here.” She presented him with a tiny white pill and a bottle of water. “What happened back there?”

“I did see a ghost. Or, more accurately, smelled one.” Head reeling, he chased the pill with a sip of water and watched her brow furrow in confusion. “That woman’s perfume struck a chord. I think my mother wore the same scent.”

“Oh, Jackson.” Her hand covered his knee. “What makes you associate it with your mother? Did you have an actual memory?”

“No. It was more like emotions that seemed to be from a long time ago. Sensations of love and warmth and happiness. But there was no memory, no face to go with the feelings.”

His frustration with the lingering amnesia echoed between them.

“I think that’s enough for today,” she suggested again.

“No. Don’t you get it? I need knowledge. If my brain won’t provide me with the facts of my life, I’ll get them any way I can.” He surged to his feet. “Come on, we have an appointment.”

He started down the hall but soon realized she wasn’t with him. Turning around, he spotted her right where he left her. Arms crossed over her chest, she stood with her head cocked watching him. Damn it. He wanted her with him.

He retraced his steps. “Aren’t you coming?”

Those watchful blue eyes never shifted from his face. “You’ve already had a traumatic event. I’ll go with you, but only if I get to call a halt if it looks like it’s getting to be too much for you.”

“Yeah, all right.” He grabbed her hand, determined not to leave her behind again.

Her hand moved but her feet didn’t. When he came to a stop, he turned to glare at her down the length of their two arms. Her expression hadn’t changed. “Promise me.”

He gritted his teeth, disliking having limitations placed on him. But the one true thing he knew was Grace cared about him. It was the foundation of his world. “I promise.”

She nodded. “Okay then, lead the way.”

A few minutes later Detective Hunt stood to greet them. “Mr. Hawke, welcome back. And this must be Ms. Delaney.”

“Please call me Grace. Thank you for seeing us on such short notice. I’m sure you can understand Mr. Hawke is anxious to get an update on the investigation. Do you have anything new on the assailant?”

“Not much.” Hunt gestured behind them with the file in his hand. “Why don’t we take this to a conference room?” A few feet down the hall, he opened a door and ushered them inside. “My partner is on a call regarding another case. She’ll join us if she can.”

Jackson nodded and sank into one of the cushioned seats. He reached for Grace’s hand before giving Hunt his full attention. “What more have you learned about Vanessa? Tell me you are close to apprehending her.”

Hunt opened the file, flipped through the pages. “Vanessa Miller’s family has money. She gets a monthly allowance and all her household expenses are paid. She has no close friends. Interviews with her neighbors revealed she has a bad temper and sometimes gets violent. We got a search warrant for her home and found a prescription for an antianxiety medication. After talking to her doctor, we determined she has a psychotic explosive disorder.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Grace spoke up.

“No. People suffering from the disorder can be fine for long periods of time, and then something will set them off and they become verbally and physically abusive. It means she’s capable of overreacting to the point of violence over any little thing. The medication is supposed to help, but she’s known to go off it, which of course increases the chances of episodes. Your company has security on her residence 24/7, with instructions to contact us if she’s spotted, but she hasn’t returned to her home.”

“You stated she has no friends or employers. What other avenues are you pursuing?” Jackson asked.

“We’ve interviewed the guests at the party where you met. Nobody particularly remembers her and nobody admits to inviting her. We talked to her neighbors. She’s been involved in several disputes so we went out and spoke to the responding officers. Seems she is well-known for blowing up and then being very contrite. Always pays bigger and better for any repairs needed. Still, people are afraid of her and tend to give her a wide berth. She put her maid in the hospital for trying on a pair of shoes, but again she was really sorry, and the family paid the woman off, so no charges were ever filed.”

The more Jackson heard, the angrier he got. “If she’s such a menace, why hasn’t she ever been charged or put in a care facility?”

“Unfortunately, it’s not that easy,” Grace said. “Unless she actually breaks a law there’s nothing the police can do but take a report. Sometimes accumulative reports will build a history supporting action or adding to charges if any are ever brought.”

Hunt nodded. “The family should do something, but they’ve set her up in the house and pretty much washed their hands of the situation.”

“I am pressing charges,” Jackson declared. “Someone who can lose their temper and stab a guy needs to be put away.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Hunt shuffled the papers back together, and a picture slid out. Jackson automatically reached for it as he listened to Hunt. “A lot of men are too embarrassed to admit a woman hurt them.”

Forget that. “I think my reputation can survive it.”

“Good, good. Have you remembered anything more you think can help us?”

Jackson exchanged glances with Grace. She gave a subtle nod that he took to mean she thought he should reveal his condition to the detective. He responded with a negative shake of his head. He couldn’t see where confessing his vulnerability helped the situation.

“No, nothing new.” He casually looked down at the picture. It wasn’t the driver’s license shot, which was what he’d seen before. This was a candid picture of a woman at a party. She had lighter hair, animated features and was dressed in a minidress sipping a martini.

Seeing her in the context in which they met triggered something in his mind.

He dropped the photo to grab his head as pain streaked from temple to temple and thunder pounded behind his eyes. He knew her. Vanessa, pretty, fun, crazy. Images, thoughts, memories began to crowd his mind, of her, of his past, his friends, his company. Everything.

It was too much. Too fast.

“Jackson?” Grace’s voice sounded as if she was shouting in a tunnel.

“Mr. Hawke?” Hunt sounded the same.

“I’m okay.” Jackson tried to say but it came out as a croak.

He wanted out of there. To be home. And alone until he sorted everything out.

Tension radiated off Jackson. That and the fact his grip nearly crushed her knuckles told Grace something was wrong. She hid her anxiety behind a polite smile.

“It’s the concussion,” she explained to Hunt. “He was in an accident a few days ago. Is it possible for us to have the room for a few minutes?”

“Of course, take your time. A last word of caution, Mr. Hawke. Vanessa knows she’s done wrong. If she follows her pattern, she could be waiting for you to resurface in order to apologize. But she’s clearly unstable. Do not engage with her. And your security people should notify us immediately if they see her.”

“Thank you, Detective.” Grace pulled her hand free to move to the door, a gesture meant to hurry the detective along. “We’ll take every precaution. And I’ll personally pass your message on to security.”

“Tonight’s gala is a public event. We’re concerned she may take the opportunity to get close to Hawke.”

“I’ll have Sierra add you and your partner to the guest list.”

“Thanks. Let me know if you folks need anything more, otherwise I’ll see you tonight.” Hunt gathered up his folder and left the room.

Grace closed the door behind him then rushed back to Jackson’s side.

“Jackson, what is it? What’s wrong?”

She got a groan in response. So not good.

She dug in her purse for another pain pill and the water bottle. The doctor had said Jackson could take two pills if necessary. He’d refused to take more than one and she’d practically had to force-feed the few he’d taken. But he gave her no argument about taking a second pill. He shoved it in his mouth and swallowed on a gulp of water.

Wanting to do something more, she began massaging his temples. He stiffened but didn’t ask her to stop. After a bit she shifted her fingers to the top and then the back of his head, working down until she used her thumbs along the chords at the base of his head leading to his neck. He moaned and the tension lessened through his shoulders.

“You remembered something,” she guessed. It’s the only thing she could think of that could incapacitate him like this.

“I remembered everything.” His voice was rough as if squeezed through a vise.

Everything?

“Congratulations.” Joy for him washed through her along with a pinch of dread, but now wasn’t the time for celebrating or anticipating the end. The surge of intel had obviously overloaded his senses. She needed to get him home so he could rest. His brain needed to shut down for a while in order to absorb everything. “Do you think you can move?”

“Yes. Just give me another minute.” He reached for the bottle and drank it dry.

She used the time to call his driver and instruct him to meet them at the front doors.

Jackson pushed to his feet. He gave her a small smile as he reached for her hand. “If I fall, don’t let them take me to the hospital.”

“Someday you’re going to have to tell me what that’s about.” Grace opened the door and they started down the hall. When he swayed, she wrapped her arm around his waist. His arm automatically went around her shoulders. “Lean on me. I’ll get you out of here.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

J
ACKSON
LOOKED
LIKE
a billion dollars. The cut of his tux, the straight line of his posture, the jut of his chin, all spoke of confidence and determination, both elements Grace saw every time she looked at him. But there was more tonight. There was a surety of self that had been missing until now.

He was in his element, among his people. And he was thriving.

Still, she kept an eye on him, watching for any sign of distress or fatigue.

She’d tried to talk him out of attending the gala. He’d crashed this morning when they returned from meeting with the detective. Slept for hours. She woke him around four and suggested skipping the event or merely putting in a brief appearance.

He refused to hear of it. Said he was fine and proved it by pulling her with him into the grotto shower for a lovely interval. She’d been forced to agree he was fine indeed.

The memory brought a touch of heat to her cheeks.

Hard to believe making love with Jackson could get better. It had. The man knew his way around a woman’s body. She had no doubt he’d made a thorough study of it at some point in the past.

He laughed at something said in the group he was speaking with and then wished them well and broke away. Several people had joined the group after he did, and she’d ended up standing somewhat behind him. Now she watched as he moved off without her toward the next group.

She slowly followed in his wake. He’d been solicitous all evening, keeping her within hands’ reach. Until now. Maybe she should have been the one to beg off the event.

He stopped suddenly and swung around. A frown drew his dark brows together until he spotted her. The approval in his eyes as he walked back to her almost made up for his leaving her behind.

“There you are. I missed you.”

She shook her finger at him. “You forgot me.”

“A momentary blip. I’m told that can happen when you have a concussion.”

“Oh, now it’s convenient to have a concussion. I can’t believe you’re using it as an excuse to me.”

“Hmm. Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

Oh, how sly. Of course she knew he meant to distract her. And he knew just how to get to her. The dress was strapless in a deep true red, the fitted, drop-waist bodice hugged her curves to the hips, and the full ballroom skirt, completely covered in ribbon roses, flowed around her when she moved.

She’d never felt more like a woman, or more beautiful. Except in his arms.

Because she wasn’t mad, just a little sad to see the end creeping up on her, she let him off the hook.

“You did.” She swished the skirt back and forth and smiled up at him, enjoying the spark in his eyes as they lingered on her. “Thank you. For the dress and for insisting it was the right one. I’ll never forget this night. I feel like Cinderella at the ball.”

“Good grief, does that make me Prince Charming? I don’t think I can live that one down.”

“Not so.” She straightened his already perfect bow tie. “JD may have stumbled a bit here, but Jackson is in his element. These people are lining up to eat out of your hand. You are every bit the prince of all you survey.”

He glanced around at the crowd surrounding them. And there was just a little surprise in the gaze he turned back to her. “I suppose you’re right.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. “I guess I’m just used to them versus me.”

“I’m sure that’s true in some cases.” She leaned against him. “But not always. Tonight they’re all backing you. This is a good thing you’re doing here. And you don’t need me hampering your progress. Why don’t I find a quiet corner while you work the room for a while?”

Concern flashed into his green eyes. “Are you not feeling well?”

“I’m fine.” It warmed her that his focus went to her first. “I just think you can move around easier without me tagging along.”

“Absolutely not.” He planted a soft kiss on her upraised mouth. “You saved my butt by interpreting Japanese for Mr. Watanabe. We were struggling without his interpreter.”

“You were doing fine.”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I missed you. My head is a mishmash of old and new. You help to ground me between the two. I can be myself with you.”

It meant a lot that he felt that way. Love welled up causing her throat to tighten. She blinked back tears. Oh, yeah, the end was zinging at her with the speed of a bullet. But she could have this last night.

She cleared her throat and lifted onto her toes to kiss his cheek. “Okay, but if Cinderella’s feet start to hurt, Prince Charming is going to carry her shoes.”

“It’s a deal.” He kissed her again, lingering over the caress long enough to make her toes curl. Then he released her but kept hold of her hand as he headed toward another group of people.

He’d gone only a few steps when Clay intercepted them. “Jackson, I’ll be shadowing you for a while.”

“You’ve been shadowing me all night, Clay. What’s changed?”

“A bit of a disturbance in the tunnel from the casino.”

“What kind of disturbance?”

“Someone trying to break in. My men are handling it, and Hunt and his partner are headed over to check it out. It’s probably nothing. But it means I’ll be shadowing you from a foot away rather than ten.”

“Do they think it’s Vanessa?” Grace asked.

“Wouldn’t that make the night a true success?” Clay fell into step with Jackson. “We should know soon.”

“I can help if you need an extra hand,” she offered.

“You’re not going to need an extra hand, are you, Clay?” Jackson made it clear her assistance would not be tolerated.

“You do know I’m trained to handle situations like this.”

“Yeah, I do. And I appreciate your willingness to help. But I won’t risk you.”

“That’s just ridiculous.” She tugged at her hand, wanting free of the bullheaded man.

“Don’t care.” He held on tight.

She threw up her free hand in frustration and looked to Clay for help.

He shrugged. “Works for me. I’m counting on you as a last line of defense.”

“Ha.” She smirked at Jackson.

He glared at Clay. “What the hell?”

Clay remained stoned-faced. “You’re my number one concern. I’ll use what tools I have to ensure your safety.”

Jackson stepped right into her space and cupped her face, forcing her gaze to his. “How much would I have to pay you to get out of law enforcement?”

She blinked at him. What was he talking about? “It’s what I do, who I am.”

“You could learn something new with what I’m willing to pay. The thought of you getting hurt flays me.”

The intensity in his expression shouted the truth of his words.

“I’m good at what I do,” she reassured him. “And you were the one encouraging me to join the FBI.”

“I was wrong. You should teach kindergarten or become a florist.”

“A florist?” she repeated confused with where this was going. Seriously, she killed off cacti, something he didn’t know about her, but still. She brushed the hair back at his temple. “Is your head hurting? Maybe we should take a break.”

A pleading look toward the other man had him stepping forward.

“Jackson—”

“I don’t need a break.” Jackson ignored Clay. “I need for you to be safe.”

“I am safe, right here by your side. You know as well as I do Clay isn’t letting anyone get past him.”

“And what about next week or a month from now? I have a scar to remind me things happen you never expect. Working in law enforcement comes with an expectation of being harmed in the line of duty.”

“True. But I’m not taking money from you to change careers, so can we get back to enjoying the night?”

“Okay.”

Yeah. He’d taken the hint in her tone and backed off.

“But the subject is not closed.”

Or maybe not.

“I have confirmation,” Clay broke in. “They just apprehended Vanessa.”

* * *

Early the next morning, Grace woke to Jackson leaning over her. His lips caressed her cheek. “Sleep in. I have things to catch up on.”

And then he was gone.

But there was no going back to sleep. Too much had happened yesterday for her mind to settle back into slumber. Not when she knew a difficult decision loomed ahead of her.

She was so happy for Jackson that Vanessa had been found and incarcerated. And still dread lay lead-heavy in her stomach.

His concern over her welfare touched her, but it also worried her. It would be different if they were a real couple, but her time with Jackson was more fantasy than reality. Their relationship was temporary at best.

She’d be a fool to let a fleeting lover influence her next career choice. Yet it would be too easy to do, considering she loved him. She’d known as soon as he regained his memory that her time with Jackson was limited, but with Vanessa still at large she’d figured she had a little extra time. Now that excuse was gone. She should make the break sooner rather than later.

Being a kept woman wasn’t her style.

No, the fantasy only worked as long as she had something to bring to the relationship. Jackson no longer needed her, so it was time to go.

Just forming the thought in her head broke her heart. But it was for the best. She loved Jackson but not his transient lifestyle. She’d compromised in that regard for too long. She may be undecided with what she wanted to do for employment, but finding a place to put down roots was the one constant her soul never wavered on.

And for all his professions of missing her and his bargaining to find her a safer career, the longer the evening wore on, the more distant he became. Sure, he shackled her to his side, but he drew her into the conversation less and less. And for the past hour he sat her on a bar stool and completely ignored her while he talked to a group of old cronies several feet away.

It gave her a chance to observe him. He laughed, he talked, he listened, but always he maintained his distance. His stance, the angle of his head and the extra inches between him and those he conversed with shouted a need for space. And people gave it to him, happy just to have his attention.

His attention had been full-on when he made love to her last night, but his early disappearing act just confirmed he was reverting to his old ways. With each passing hour, the Jackson she knew morphed into the Jackson he used to be, which by all accounts meant a lack of emotional commitment.

What she’d learned from reading his file and talking with Sierra revealed a man shut off from the world. He lived in hotel suites, kept women and the world at a distance, and 90 percent of the work he did was in his head. His associates were his family, the company his home.

She couldn’t live that way.

The man she knew wasn’t quite so closed off, but with his memory back she had no doubt he’d soon revert to his former self. Too bad. The signs were there that he longed for more. He’d created the facsimile of a home by having all the penthouse suites designed the same. And his work with the foundation showed he had a heart.

He just wasn’t willing to risk it by letting anyone too close.

So sad, because the man she knew was warm and generous, intelligent and funny. He’d make a great dad.

Good gracious, now she was thinking of children? That settled it. She threw back the covers and made her way to the bathroom for one last shower in her own personal grotto.

She needed to leave, and she needed to leave today. Before she completely lost her mind.

* * *

As Grace zipped up her duffel bag, a text sounded on her phone. Jackson, letting her know he was wrapping up a meeting and would be up in the next few minutes.

She blew out a breath. Showtime.

Carrying her bags into the living area, she set them down near the archway. Being a bright guy, Jackson was sure to get the meaning and start the conversation for her.

A few minutes stretched into twenty and then thirty. More to occupy her hands and mind than because she was hungry, she worked in the kitchen, putting together a snack tray of veggies, fruit and cheese. After a while, she heard Jackson come in.

“I’m in here,” she called out.

“Sorry, that took longer than I anticipated. This looks good.” A kiss landed on her cheek as he snagged a broccoli floret before opening the refrigerator for a bottle of water. “I’ve been thinking this morning. I’ve come up with the answer to your career decision.”

A sinking feeling settled on top of the dread she already sported.

“I’m not going to work for you.”

“Way to undermine a guy.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he drank. “Why not? It’s the perfect solution.”

So not perfect. Silly her, she longed for a proposal, not a job offer.

To give herself a moment, she carried the tray to the living room and set it on the glass coffee table. Jackson followed on her heels.

“You can work with Clay on our internet security team. Electronic games are a highly competitive field. Espionage is rampant, but there’s little chance of being physically hurt.”

“Cyber security isn’t really where my talents lie.”

“You’re being modest. I’ve seen your work, remember. The reports you’ve done for me, the profiles you put together for the gala have all been efficient and thorough. Top-notch.” He reached for a piece of apple and spotted her luggage. His brows narrowed into a frown. “What’s this?”

“I commandeered the suitcase you bought in Santa Rosa to hold the dresses you gave me. I didn’t have the heart to squash them into the duffel bag.”

“What are you doing, Grace? This sounds like goodbye.”

“It is. You’re home, Jackson. You have your memory back. You don’t need me anymore.” She thanked her years in the navy for managing to deliver the message in a strong voice.

A scowl drew his dark brows closer together. “That’s not true. I have my memory back, but I’m still having headaches from the concussion.”

“Dr. Wilcox can help you with those. And your friends will keep you from doing too much.”

“Vanessa—”

“Has been apprehended. She’s no longer a threat.”

He cupped her cheek in his hand, ran his thumb over her chin, his touch nearly reverent. His eyes entreated her to stay. “I’m not ready to let you go.”