The Rancher And The Amnesiac Bride Read online

  “Listen to yourself.” Max leaned toward her, yelling close to her face. “All you’re thinking about is what you want. Have you given one thought to Sabrina’s feelings, what her wishes might be? Hell, no. A Wentworth has spoken, so by God, that’s how it’s going to be.

  “Well, I’ve got news for you, lady.” Max snatched his shirt off the side of the truck bed and yanked it on, not bothering to fasten the snaps or tuck it into his jeans. “I respect Sabrina’s privacy. If she has anything to say to you, she’ll decide that on her own.”

  Josie narrowed her eyes. “You’re not going to tell me where she is, are you?”

  “Not in this lifetime.”

  Josie settled the strap of her purse higher on her shoulder and began to back up.

  “You’re despicable, do you know that, Max Carter?” she said. “You’re narrow-minded and stubborn and... I’m attempting to do the right and decent thing here and you’re...”

  “Watch where you’re going!”

  But it was too late.

  With a scream that sliced through the air, Josie toppled backward into the hole created by the removal of the tree stump.

  Max swore and rushed forward, his heart thundering as he looked down to see Josie lying still with her eyes closed, the back of her head on the edge of the solid, menacing boulder.

  Chapter Four

  “Come on, beautiful, open your eyes. It’s time to wake up now.”

  Deep in a dark tunnel that was cool and quiet and soothing, she heard the insistent voice of a man who was urging her to leave her lovely haven.

  No, she thought Leave me alone. I’m sleeping, sleeping, sleeping....

  “You moved a bit. I know you can hear me. Let me see those big brown, fawn eyes of yours.”

  Fawn eyes? she thought. Did she have eyes like a fawn? Brown eyes? Her eyes were—Oh, what difference did it make? She was sleeping, not worrying about the color of her eyes. Besides, she knew her eyes were...were... What color were her eyes?

  She jerked, as somewhere in the dark tunnel the realization that she had no idea what color her eyes were jolted her from the peaceful place. Pain radiated instantly through her head like a hot poker, and she moaned as she lifted her lashes slowly.

  “There she is,” the man said. “How’s your head feeling?”

  “Hurts,” she said, closing her eyes again.

  “Oh, no, you don’t. You’ve been fading in and out on me for the past fifteen minutes, and now you’re finally talking. Stay awake. I know your head hurts, but you have to stay with me here.”

  She tried again, squinting against the pain as she moved her head just enough to see the man who was speaking to her.

  Ruggedly handsome, she thought foggily. Nice, very nice, but that was beside the point.

  “Who are you?” she said, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

  The man frowned. “What?”

  “Who are you? Where am I?” Her eyes flew all the way open and she pressed both hands to her head. “Oh, dear God, who am I?”

  “Uh-oh,” an older man said, peering over the hunk’s shoulder at her. She was lying on a sofa.

  “Take it easy,” the younger man said. He was hunkered down next to the sofa. “There’s a doctor on the way to have a look at you. You fell into a hole and hit your head on a rock. Do you remember that?”

  “No. No, I don’t remember anything,” she said, panic rushing through her. She struggled to sit up, only to clutch her head more tightly and fall back against the pillow. “My head. I can’t think. I... Why don’t I know who I am? Who are you?”

  “Shh. Relax. Okay?” he said. “You had a nasty bump on the head, that’s all. Things will become clear in a few minutes. Just rest and wait for that headache to ease some. You’re going to be just fine.”

  “But—”

  “I hear a car. That’ll be the doctor. Don’t move. Just lie still.”

  Max planted his hands on his thighs and pushed himself to his feet. He strode across the room and headed for the front door.

  Holy hell, he thought, dragging one hand through his hair. Josie didn’t remember who she was, who he was, where she was. She’d hit her head on that damn boulder and... Did she have a full-blown case of amnesia? Could a knock on the head like she’d had totally erase a person’s memory?

  Max flung open the front door, grabbed the arm of the man who stood on the porch, then literally hauled him into the house.

  “Cripe’s, Carter,” the man said. “Tear my arm off.”

  “Oh, sorry, Jeff. I... Damn.”

  “I’ve never seen you so shook up,” Jeff said. “You said on the phone that you had a woman visitor who fell, hit her head and was unconscious. That’s not great news, but it’s not something to come unglued about.”

  Max glowered at his friend, who was a few years older. Jeff Wilson was short and slightly overweight. He’d gone to medical school, then returned to his roots to fulfill his dream of becoming an old-fashioned country doctor. He was married and had three children, with another one on the way.

  “She woke up,” Max said gruffly.

  “Well, that’s good,” Jeff said, nodding. “She probably has a helluva headache, too.”

  “Yeah, she does, but—” Max glanced back toward the sofa and lowered his voice “—she can’t remember anything. Nothing. She doesn’t even know who she is, let alone who I am.”

  “Whew. She really took a pop on the bean, huh? I’ll have a look at her. Sounds like she has retrograde amnesia, though.”

  “How long will it last?”

  Jeff shrugged. “No telling. It varies from person to person. It’s rather frightening for the patient. I mean, think about it. Her mind is a blank blackboard. That can be scary as hell. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me examine her and draw my own conclusions. What’s the lady’s name?”

  “Josie.”

  “Okay. You go outside, Carter, and get your act together. If Josie does have amnesia, she’s going to need a lot of calm reassurance that her memory will return. At the moment you’re worthless.”

  “Yeah, well, hell,” Max said, then went out the front door.

  He began to pace the length of the porch, his strides heavy. Rusty appeared minutes later.

  “Jeff threw me out,” Rusty said. “Lordy, boss, that pretty little gal can’t remember anything.”

  “I’m aware of that, Rusty,” Max said, shooting him a dark glare. He shook his head. “Man, I don’t need this. Josie had better get her memory back fast, that’s for damn sure.”

  “What if she doesn’t?”

  Max stopped his trek. “Don’t you have something to do in the barn?”

  “I’m gone.” Rusty raised both hands, then hustled off.

  As Rusty disappeared around the side of the house, Max resisted the urge to punch the porch beam, deciding he’d probably bring the entire thing crashing down around him.

  Then again, maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea, he thought. He might get whopped on the head and suffer a comforting case of amnesia. Then he could just wander here and there on the Single C and be oblivious to the dilemma he was now facing regarding Josie Wentworth.

  Wentworth. Cripes. Why couldn’t she be a nosy Smith or Jones who was intent on finding his cousin Sabrina? But oh, no, not Josie. She had to be a Wentworth of the Wentworth Oil Works family.

  Dandy, Max fumed. Just great. The rich got richer. In this case, they’d pad their coffers a bit more by suing him for Josie’s accident and chalking up the Single C Ranch as one of their assets, albeit a meager one by their mighty standards.

  No, damn it, he would not allow that to happen. He wasn’t going to lose his ranch because the suit-and-tie lawyers belonging to the Wentworth clan stepped in to claim damages for Josie’s knock on the head.

  Get a plan, Carter, he told himself. Okay. What he needed was to sit Josie down and calmly and quietly explain that this spread was his life, his reason for being. To lose the Single C was to lose himself, who he was, h
is purpose for existing. Surely even a spoiled little rich girl, who wore designer jeans and had her nails professionally manicured could understand that.

  But he couldn’t have that heart-to-heart talk with Josie to ask her to call off the dogs in the form of her family attorneys, if she didn’t remember who she was!

  Max began to pace again, his mind going a hundred miles an hour. His glance fell on the sagging front steps.

  He really ought to repair those, he thought absently, before they gave way under someone’s weight and he was facing another lawsuit.

  Josie. He quickly reminded himself of the troublesome subject at hand. She had clearly stated that her family had no clue that she’d been seeking him out. They didn’t know where she was or how long she’d be away from Freemont Springs.

  Excellent.

  It was coming together in his mind like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. He would nurse Josie Wentworth back to memory-filled health himself, right here on the ranch. When she was as good as new, they’d have their sensible little chat, she’d go merrily on her way, and that would be that. Her family and the vulture lawyers need never know about Josie’s accident. And time was on his side. Her family wasn’t expecting her home anytime soon.

  Lord, he was brilliant.

  Max stopped pacing, nodded decisively, then frowned in the next instant.

  There was one glitch in the genius-level plot, he realized. Josie had come to the Single C in search of Sabrina. Well, forget that. It was time Ms. Fancy Pants learned that people had a right to their privacy. Big bucks didn’t always mean calling the shots and running roughshod over others’ feelings.

  Josie’s quest to find Sabrina was self-centered and self-serving, and he wouldn’t be a party to it. Whatever his cousin’s involvement with Jack Wentworth had been, it was Sabrina’s business, pure and simple. If she chose to contact the Wentworths, she would. If not, so be it.

  There was also the fact that he had no idea where Sabrina was, Max thought dryly. He’d been very surprised to learn she’d given Jack Wentworth the Single C as an address to use to reach her by mail.

  Maybe—hell, he didn’t know what was going on—but maybe when Sabrina learned of Jack’s death, she’d somehow known the Wentworths would be looking for her and had steered clear of the ranch because of it.

  He was guessing, grabbing at straws, because what had actually transpired between Sabrina Jensen and Jack Wentworth was a complete mystery to him, as it was, apparently, to Josie.

  Josie, Max thought again, dragging a restless hand through his hair. Could he pull this off? Keep her here on the ranch until she was completely recovered? What if she demanded that he contact the family she couldn’t remember so they could come and get her?

  No way, he thought fiercely. He would not allow himself to be thrown to wolves in thousand-dollar suits. He’d have to lie, the idea of which was already causing a knot to tighten in his gut. But, damn it, his life, this ranch, was at stake.

  Desperate situations called for desperate measures.

  Max’s tumbling-together thoughts were interrupted by Jeff’s coming back out onto the porch. At the sound of the door, Max spun around.

  “Well?” he said. “What’s your verdict?”

  Jeff walked forward slowly, rubbing one hand over his chin.

  “Interesting,” he said. “Textbook case. It’s fascinating to be dealing with a situation that could have been lifted right out of a chapter I studied to pass an exam.”

  “Damn it, Jeff. Quit babbling and tell me what the deal is.”

  “Chill, Carter.” Jeff paused. “Okay, here it is. Josie has a slight concussion. She needs to be wakened every hour until tomorrow morning to be certain she still knows how many fingers you’re holding up, where she is—that type of thing.”

  “And?”

  “And she has retrograde amnesia. At the moment she’s a total blank, doesn’t know who she is or why she’s here. She’s terribly frightened, by the way, so I suggest you lighten up before you go back into the house.

  “She could get her memory back in bits and pieces, or all at once. There’s also a chance she might never remember a certain chunk of time. Say, for example, how she got the bump on the head.”

  “I should be so lucky,” Max muttered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. You have no idea how long this is going to last?”

  “Nope.”

  “What a mess,” Max said, shaking his head.

  “Max, why is she here? She’s a very beautiful woman. Is she at the Single C at your invitation? You know, your lady friend come to visit? What about her family? Are you going to contact them to let them know she’s been injured?”

  “Jeff, Jeff, Jeff,” Max said, patting the doctor on the shoulder. “Don’t concern yourself with the details. You did your job and I appreciate your coming out here. Send me a bill.”

  “You won’t pay it.”

  “True. I’ll trade you some prime beef for what I owe you.”

  “Sold. Well, I’m off. Give me a holler if you become concerned about Josie in any way. I called her Josie, but it didn’t mean a thing to her. Man, I feel for her. She has a beaut of a headache and is scared spitless. It’s got to be very frightening. I hope for her sake that this amnesia doesn’t last long.”

  “Right,” Max said, urging Jeff toward the steps of the porch.

  “Maybe if she saw a member of her family, it would jog something loose,” Jeff said, seemingly unaware that he was being propelled forward. “Do you know where—”

  “Say hello to your lovely wife and kiddies for me,” Max said.

  “What? Oh, sure thing. I’ll certainly do that. See ya, Max.”

  “Goodbye, Jeff. Thanks again.”

  Max stayed on the porch until Jeff had driven away and the dust had settled.

  He was, Max knew, postponing going into the house and putting the lie into motion. He’d always prided himself on his integrity and honesty, the fact that his handshake and word were as good as gold.

  But this situation with Josie had him cornered, fearful for his future, his land, everything he held dear. Little people with a little bit of money were powerless against the big boys with the big bucks.

  In fairness to himself, Max reasoned, Josie had had no business coming to the Single C in the first place. She’d read a letter that was private and personal, not hers to open. She had choreographed a role for his cousin to play in regard to the Wentworth family—if, indeed, Sabrina had been seriously involved with brother Jack.

  Josie had been way out of line.

  She’d chosen a path, a course of action, she had no right to, and it had caused her nothing but grief—a bump on the head, a loss of her memory. Just desserts for a self-centered endeavor.

  And he, Max Carter, was not going to pay the price for Josie Wentworth’s selfish actions.

  “All right,” he said aloud, turning toward the door. “So be it.”

  In the living room Max walked to the sofa and stared down at Josie, his heart thundering instantly in his chest.

  She was asleep, one hand curled loosely next to her pale cheek like a child. She looked vulnerable and delicate, causing him to fight against the urge to lift her gently into his arms and hold her, comfort her, assure her that everything was going to be fine.

  No harm will come to you, Josie, he would tell her, because I’m here, standing between you and anything that might threaten you.

  He frowned.

  Lord, he thought, where was all that gooey, sentimental, macho junk coming from? He was no one’s knight in shining armor. No way. He moved through life alone by choice and liked it just fine. He had even telegraphed that message by the name he’d given his ranch.

  The women he dated and slept with on occasion understood his rules. No one got hurt. No commitments. No ties. No one telling him what to do or counting on him to be something he couldn’t be.

  Ms. Fancy Pants had gotten to him momentarily there because she was hurt, and J
eff had said she was scared to death. So, okay, he’d be patience personified, treat her kindly while she recovered.

  Then they’d have their talk about how her accident had been just that—an unfortunate mishap that was not fodder for a lawsuit.

  After that? He’d send her packing back to her world of money and privilege, with no information whatsoever about Sabrina Jensen.

  Josie moaned in her sleep, causing her lips to part slightly. Heated desire exploded in Max as he continued to gaze at her, envisioning his mouth claiming those inviting lips.

  “Damn,” he said, spinning on his heel and leaving the room.

  He was still a grungy mess from the hard labor of dragging the tree stump out of the ground. He would take a shower and put on fresh clothes. He’d also hide Josie’s car behind one of the outbuildings before it was time to waken her.

  Yeah, he would go take a shower, and the water would be very, very cold.

  She stirred and opened her eyes, one hand immediately lifting to her aching head. She’d slept deeply, felt foggy and disoriented, her mind a blur of confusion.

  She blinked and waited for her eyes to focus properly, to bring into crystal clarity the details of a living room she recognized. She had obviously fallen asleep on a sofa, so...

  The mist of sleep lifted and the chill of panic replaced it, causing her to whimper, the sound like that of a newborn kitten.

  Dear heaven, she thought, it was coming back to her now. She’d been told by a kind doctor named Jeff that she’d suffered a concussion from a fall. She was at a ranch called the Single C that was owned by a Max Carter.

  Max. Yes. She’d seen him briefly before the doctor had arrived. Max Carter was very handsome, in an earthy, raw way, and very in need of a shower and clean clothes.

  The doctor had explained that she had a case of amnesia due to her head injury. While definitely a frightening state to be in, it wasn’t all that unusual under the circumstances. The best thing she could do to speed her recovery, he’d said, was to stay calm and to allow nature to take its course to restore her memory.

  Stay calm?

  She pressed trembling fingertips to her lips, willing herself not to cry.