word Daddy.
He hit the call key and waited. A man on the other end answered. Gareth spoke calmly. “This is Gareth Wolff. Your daughter took a fall and has been injured. She’s been checked out by a doctor, and she’s going to be fine. But she’s suffering a temporary memory loss. It would be helpful if you could reassure her. I’ll put her on the line.”
Without waiting for an answer, Gareth handed the phone to Gracie.
She eased up into a half-sitting position, resting her back against the headboard. “Hello?”
Gareth sat down beside her, close enough to hear that the voice on the other end was amused. Close enough to catch snatches of conversation.
“Hot damn, my little Gracie. I didn’t think you had it in you. Faking an accident on Wolff property? Pretending to have amnesia? Good Lord, you’ve got him right where we want him. The whole family will be terrified we’ll sue. Phenomenal idea. Nothing like going after what you want whole hog. Brilliant, my girl. Sheer brilliance.”
Gracie interrupted the man’s euphoria. “Father… I don’t feel well at all. Can you please come pick me up and take me home?”
Darlington chortled. “He’s standing in the room with you, isn’t he? And you’ve got to play this out. Splendid. I’ll do my part. Sorry, Gracie. I’m headed for Europe in half an hour. Won’t be back for a week. And the house is a wreck. I told the contractor to go ahead with the remodel since we were both planning to be out of town. You’d have to stay in a hotel if you came back.”
“This isn’t funny,” she muttered. “I’m serious. I can’t stay here. They don’t want me. I’m a stranger.”
“Dredge up their guilt,” he insisted. “They owe it to you to be hospitable. Flirt with Gareth a little. Play on his sympathies. Damsel in distress and all that. Get him to agree to our proposal. We’ll talk next week. I’ve gotta run.”
“No, wait,” she said desperately. “At least tell me if I have a husband or a boyfriend. Anyone who’s missing me.”
Her father’s cackle of a laugh was so loud she had to hold the phone away from her ear. “Of course not. Lay it on thick. I’m loving this. Wish I could see his face. So long now.”
The line went dead. Gracie stared down at the phone, her composure in shreds. What kind of father did she have? Who could be so callous? So blasé about her injuries? Embarrassment and humiliation washed over her in waves, adding to her feeling of abandonment.
She laid the phone aside and managed a weak grimace. “How much of that did you hear?”
Gareth stood up and crossed to the window, his back to her. “Enough,” he said, disgusted with himself and with her. If he had any sense, he would boot her off the property ASAP.
Gracie’s voice wobbled. “He can’t come pick me up right now, because he’s on his way out of the country for a week. But if you’ll make travel arrangements for me, I’m sure he’ll reimburse you.”
Gareth Wolff turned to stare at her with a mixture of suspicion and pity. “He thinks you’re faking amnesia.”
Her cheeks flamed. “The whole conversation was confusing. I came to see you for a reason. But I don’t know what that is. Though he seems to.”
“And you really don’t have a clue?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave as soon as I can.”
“You’re not going anywhere at the moment.” Gareth’s jaw was clenched. “If you really do have memory loss, then I have to let Jacob know. The Wolff family doesn’t make a habit of throwing the injured out on the street. And believe me, Gracie, we’re not going to give you or your unbelievably unconcerned father any ammunition for a lawsuit.”
“We’re not going to sue you,” she said quietly. Depression depleted her last reserve of spunk. “I don’t believe in frivolous lawsuits.”
“How do you know?” he shot back. “Maybe the woman you can’t remember would do just that.”
Gracie slid back down into the bed, her skull filled with pounding hammers. “Please leave me alone.”
Gareth shook his head, his demeanor more drill sergeant than nurse. “Sorry, Gracie.” His tone didn’t sound sorry at all. “If we’re playing the amnesia game, I have no choice but to let Jacob know. I’ll drive you over there.”
The thought of standing up was dreadful. “Can’t he come back here? It’s not that late, is it?”
“It’s not a question of being late. Jacob has a fully outfitted clinic at his place. He’ll be able to scan your head and x-ray your leg.”
“I’m sure that’s not necessary. All I want to do is rest. Tomorrow you can get rid of me.”
Gareth strode to the door. “You’re in Wolff territory now. And in no position to call the shots.” He paused and glanced back at her, his expression grim. “I’ll grab my keys and shoes. Don’t move.”
Gracie closed her eyes, breathing deeply, half convinced she was in the midst of a dark and disturbing nightmare. Surely she would wake up soon, and all of this would be a surreal fantasy. Gareth Wolff. She whispered the name aloud, searching for meaning. Why had she come to see him? What did her father want? And how did she get from Georgia to Virginia? Did she have luggage somewhere? A hotel room? A vehicle? Maybe even a laptop? Her tote held nothing but the phone, snacks and some tissues.
She froze, her brow furrowed in discomfort. How could she know what a laptop was and not even remember her own name?
Gareth strode back into the room, his feet shod in worn leather boots. Everything about the room she inhabited made Gracie feel at a disadvantage—the expensive bedding, the masculine decor, the large scale furniture… the total lack of anything familiar.
But something about those scarred boots eased the constriction in her chest. They struck her as normal. Human.
Gareth approached the bed, his face closed. “I’ve spoken to Jacob. He’s expecting us. Let’s go.”
Gracie screeched in shock when he gathered her up, blankets and all, in his strong arms.
He froze. “Did I hurt you? Sorry.” The gruff apology was instantaneous.
She shook her head, trembling as they traversed a wide hallway. “You startled me. That’s all.” Not for anything would she admit that being in his arms was exciting and comforting at the same time. His scent and the beat of his heart beneath her cheek aroused her and gave her the illusory sensation of security.
The earlier fleeting impressions she’d formed of wealth and privilege increased tenfold as they passed through the house. Gleaming hardwood floors. Western-themed rugs. Intricate chandeliers of elk horn shedding warm yellow light.
But Gareth walked too quickly for her to carry out any deeper inspection. In minutes they were out the front door and stepping into the scented cool of a late spring evening.
And how did she know it was spring? The little blips of instinctual information that popped into her head gave hope that her memories were simply tucked away in hiding. Not permanently gone… merely obscured by her injury.
Gareth carried her carefully, but impersonally. It wasn’t his fault if her hormones and heartbeat went haywire. He smelled of wood smoke and shampoo, a pleasing mélange of masculine odors. Despite his flashes of animosity, she felt safe in his embrace. He might not want her in his home, but he posed no threat to her well-being… at least not physically. The unseen dangers might prove to be more hazardous.
She liked being held by Gareth Wolff. What did that say about her?
Of course, her instinctive response could be attributed to something akin to Stockholm syndrome—the bonding between kidnapper and victim. Not that Gareth had done anything wrong. Quite