“You’re not going to lose me.” She cupped his face with her hand and toyed with his earlobe. “I’m not with anyone in my real life, Rob. I know that as much as I know I’m Libby James, as much as I know I saw a dead body, as much as I know I’ve seen April Archer’s picture somewhere.”
“Bad comparisons. As tenuous as your memories are of those things, you still have some proof or image that they’re true. Just because you haven’t had any flashes of memory about a husband and children, it doesn’t mean they don’t exist out there.”
Sighing, she closed her eyes. “You don’t want to make love with me because you’re worried we’re cheating on some nameless, faceless person who probably doesn’t exist?”
Was he? He didn’t like making mistakes in his life. He’d worked hard to avoid missteps. Falling for someone else’s wife was not in his life plan.
But neither was picking up a strange woman and making all her problems his own.
He draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. He whispered in her ear, “There’s no hurry, is there? When you get your memory back and know for sure you’re single, we have time to explore if that’s what you still want.”
She nestled her head in the crook of his neck. “You don’t have to be careful with me, Rob. In fact, I’m the last person you need to be careful with. I’m nobody. I’m a woman without a past and not much future.”
“You’re somebody to me.” He rested his cheek against the top of her soft hair. “And you’re worth protecting.”
She curled her legs beneath her and slanted her body across his, wrapping one arm around his waist. Her hair fanned out across his chest and he took a strand between two fingers and ran them down to the ends.
Her body felt warm against his, and her breathing deepened. The bed was still made up for her, but he didn’t want to move her. Didn’t want to move himself. Didn’t want to breathe.
He held her and looked down at her profile, studying every curve and her delicate bone structure. In sleep, her face lost its haunted look. Even when she smiled, it didn’t light up her eyes. It was as if she had to know who she was, who she’d been, before she could allow herself to just be.
He knew her desire to have sex with him came from a need to get lost in her feelings, a chance to stop thinking.
When he made love to Libby James, he wanted to be with the real Libby, someone who could give him all of herself unreservedly because she knew exactly who she was and what she wanted.
Would he ever have that chance? Was Libby James a married woman? Engaged? In love? He could wait to find out. For now, he had this. He ran his hand down her back.
She arched like a cat, and then burrowed into his chest.
He could sleep with her next to him like this all night...and probably would. Closing his eyes, he tilted back his head.
A few minutes later, or maybe it was a few hours, someone pounded on his front door and a woman’s cry pierced through the haze of sleep. He jerked forward, his arms going around Libby.
Thank God she was safe. Just as his heart rate returned to normal, he heard the cry again and the glass in his front door shook.
Libby sat up, blinking. “What was that?”
“Someone’s at the door.” He put his finger to his lips and scooted out from beneath Libby, still halfway draped across his lap.
He reached for his weapon on the end table next to the couch and staggered to his feet, shaking off the cobwebs of sleep.
Libby grabbed the back pocket of his jeans. “Be careful.”
Rob crept to his door and stood to the side. With his gun raised, he flicked aside the curtain and swore. “It’s Teresa...and she has the baby.”
Libby stumbled against his back, her hand to her throat. “Is Pablo with her?”
“Not that I can tell.”
“It’s a trick, Rob. If you open that door, Pablo will come out of the shadows.” She clutched his arm.
“I’m not so sure about that, Libby. Look at her face. She’s been beaten.” His finger twitched on the trigger of his gun as Teresa rapped on the window and uttered a garbled plea.
“What about the baby?” He couldn’t take it anymore and turned the dead bolt. “If Pablo’s out there and makes a move, he’s a dead man. Stand back, Libby.”
He yanked open the door and grabbed Teresa’s arm through the narrow space. “Get inside.”
Teresa tripped across the threshold, and Libby steadied her.
Then through swollen and bloodied lips, Teresa said in Spanish, “You have to get away. He was sent here to kill you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Libby wrapped one arm around Teresa and held on to the baby with the other while Rob secured the front door.
He whipped around, still clutching his gun, and Teresa whimpered. “Is he out there? Does he know you’re here?”
Teresa’s eyes took up her entire face, which had blanched.
Scowling at Rob, Libby took Teresa’s arm and led her to the couch. She could extend sympathy to someone in worse condition than she was. She spoke to Teresa in Spanish. “Rob’s not going to hurt you. Where’s Pablo?”
Teresa explained that Pablo had put her and the baby on a bus back to Mexico, but she’d gotten off two stops later and returned here.
“To warn Libby? What do you know about Libby? Who’s Pablo? Who sent him to kill Libby?”
Libby held up a hand to Rob. “One question at a time, Rob. You’re confusing her... And it doesn’t help that your Spanish is atrocious and you’re waving a gun around.”
Rob shoved the gun in his waist in the back and crouched by the window.
Libby sat next to Teresa and stroked the baby’s cheek. She spoke to her in Spanish. “Pablo didn’t hurt the baby, did he?”
“No. He wouldn’t
