“A big tip for me?” She followed his gaze as it scanned the screen, searching for her face, searching for some proof beyond her feelings.
“You all.” She swiped her arm through the air. “Maybe El Gringo Viejo is in Rocky Point, too. You said law enforcement doesn’t know where he is or what he looks like. Now you know he’s in Rocky Point.”
“I don’t know, Jane.” Rob rubbed his eyes and pushed the computer from his lap onto the coffee table. “We need some kind of proof.”
“Libby.” She pinned her shoulders against the back cushion of the couch, feeling stronger every time she said the name. “Start calling me Libby.”
“You do look more like a Libby than a Jane.”
“In what way?” She tilted her head, and her hair swung over her shoulder.
“Jane... I don’t know. It reminds me of plain Jane and you’re anything but plain.”
A tingling warmth crept into her cheeks and she pressed her hand against one side as if to stop the color she was sure had accompanied the heat.
She snorted. “Yeah, plain doesn’t cut it for a woman hiding out in the desert with ripped clothing and a gash on the side of her head.”
Rob rolled his eyes.
Did he think she was fishing for more compliments? Was she?
“So.” She laced her fingers and stretched her arms in front of her. “What’s our next step? I don’t think I should go running back to Rocky Point, do you?”
“Absolutely not. If you are Libby James from Rocky Point and in some kind of trouble with El Gringo Viejo, you don’t want to return to the source of your misery—especially with no understanding of what that misery is.”
Rob hadn’t balked at her use of our. Whether or not he believed her about being Libby, he wasn’t going to abandon her.
“You need to get your memory back. You need to find out why those men had instructions to kill you. You need to talk to someone.” He held up a finger as she opened her mouth. “Not the cops.”
“I know, a psychiatrist or psychologist—someone like that. I’ve already been thinking along those same lines. I suppose you don’t have any mental health professionals here in Paradiso.”
“We do. There’s a therapist who works at the hospital, and I know she sees patients outside of her work there.”
She raised her eyebrows at him.
He crossed one finger over the other. “Not me. I told you I had plenty of head shrinking when I was a kid in school. I don’t need any more.”
“Are you sure?”
“What does that mean?”
“You rescued a knife-wielding woman in the desert and took her into your home, didn’t call the cops, didn’t call the hospital, didn’t report the accident—some people would say you’re certifiable.”
“Ah, don’t remind me.” He buried his hands in his hair. “This cannot get out to my coworkers. They have this impression that I’m impulsive and careless.”
“Do you think that’s a reaction to being so very careful when you were growing up?”
His dark brown eyes narrowed. “I’ll say it again. I think you’re a therapist, not an artist. You have this tendency to analyze me when you’re the one who needs analyzing.”
“Maybe I’m just practicing for what’s to come.” She lifted and dropped her shoulders. “I don’t need analysis so much as a swift knock on the head.”
“I don’t think you need that at all.” He stroked his fingers over the hair covering her wound, and she melted just a little.
She sure hoped there wasn’t a Mr. James out there looking for his wife.
He snatched his hand back from her head as if the same thought had just occurred to him. “If the psychiatrist at the hospital can’t see you, she can recommend another therapist, although you might have to go to Tucson to see someone.”
“I’d be willing to go a lot farther than Tucson to get help.”
“I think your brain has done enough work for tonight. All signs point to Libby so far, but knowing your name isn’t enough. You have to remember who you are to get this straightened out.”
“I agree.” She rose to her feet a little unsteadily, and Rob placed a hand on her hip. “Sh-should I go back to my motel tonight?”
“No, although I was ready to kick you out after confronting you about your library searches.” He left his hand on her body as if she needed propping up. Maybe she did.
“After finding out, why did you bring me back here? Why did you feed me?”
“I wanted to trip you up. I wanted to discover your motive, and then I just wanted you to tell me the truth.” He ran his thumb into the pocket of her pants. “Why didn’t you tell me all this before?”
“I was afraid.” She lodged her tongue in the corner of her mouth. “I was afraid of the unknown, of being taken to the police station and revealed as someone who had no memory, no ID, no life. You may have thought I needed to be in the hospital, but the thought terrified me. I didn’t want to be captive somewhere for some stranger to come along and claim me like a stray puppy—tell me who I was and where I needed to be.”
He nodded as he stood up beside her, removing his thumb from her pocket. “I get it. It must be strange not knowing who you are, like staring into an abyss.”
“Take that and multiply it by a hundred, but then you came along and didn’t push even though you didn’t believe me.” She turned from the magnetic hold his eyes exerted on
