.

didn’t look happy, but apparently deciding he wasn’t going to get his way, he finally nodded. “Nate, could you give me a minute with my wife?”

      “Sure thing, bro.” Nate nodded toward the hall. “I’ll be down in the waiting room with the rest of the guys, Bria.”

      When Nate left the room, Sam pinned her with his piercing blue gaze. “Are you doing all right? You didn’t get too upset, did you?”

      Confused, she had no idea why he was asking about her welfare. He was the one who had the accident. “I’m doing okay. But why do you ask?”

      “We’ve been trying to have a baby and when I called you from the bull riding up in Oklahoma the other night you told me you were going to get one of those early home-pregnancy tests at the drugstore,” Sam said, looking hopeful as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Were we successful, sweetheart? Are you pregnant?”

      A cold sinking feeling settled in the pit of her stomach at his mention of their trying to start a family. He didn’t remember that she had not only become pregnant, she had miscarried in her seventh week. That had been almost six months ago and had ended up being the last straw in making her decision to file for divorce. Something was definitely wrong if he had no recollection of the past several months’ tumultuous events.

      “No, I’m not pregnant,” she said, determined to talk to the neurologist as soon as possible. “Now, get some rest and I’ll be in a little later to check on you.”

      “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Sam said, smiling. “We haven’t been trying that long. I’m sure you’ll be pregnant within another month or so.”

      Unsure if she could respond without bursting into tears or reminding him that he would have had to be home more for her to become pregnant again, she simply nodded and turned to leave.

      “Aren’t you going to give me a good-night kiss, sweetheart?” he asked, still holding her hand.

      “I … uh … They won’t let me take down the bed rail,” she said, thinking fast. Kissing the tip of her index finger, she pressed it to his lips. “You need to get some rest so they’ll let you out of here soon. Try to get some sleep, Sam.”

      He gave her a grin that never failed to cause her heart to skip a beat. “It’s going to be damn hard to do without you here beside me.”

      She once again had to bite her tongue to keep from pointing out that sleeping without her hadn’t seemed to be a problem for him when he was traveling from one rodeo to another with his livestock-contracting company. But as she stared down at his handsome face, she decided that now wasn’t the time to get into how lonely she had been without him, how many times she had asked him to cut back on the travel or to remind him that some time ago, he had reached his goal of being independently wealthy and didn’t need to work if he didn’t want to. His smile was playing havoc with her resolve and she needed to put distance between them in order to regain her perspective.

      “Good night, Sam.”

      Some things never changed, she thought as she walked down the hall to the waiting area. The sun rose in the east each morning. The ocean rushed to shore. And Sam Rafferty could make her knees wobble with nothing more than his sexy-as-sin smile.

      “I really don’t see any other way around it, Bria,” Nate insisted, shaking his head. “You’re going to have to move back into the ranch house with Sam until he regains his memory.”

      After finally getting a chance to talk to the doctor the day after the accident, Sam’s brothers and Bria had decided to get a good night’s sleep, then meet in the hospital cafeteria this morning for coffee as they discussed how best to handle Sam’s recovery.

      Dr. Bailey had informed them that after staying in the hospital for observation the past forty-eight hours, Sam had been cleared to go home, but that he was suffering from post-concussion syndrome. That was the reason he had forgotten everything that had happened during the past six months. The doctor had assured them that the condition was most likely temporary and would clear up on its own in a few weeks with Sam recovering most, if not all, of his memory. But until then he might suffer with headaches and spells of dizziness and shouldn’t become overly stressed or worried. And that was what brought them together to discuss the current dilemma. It was imperative that someone be with him at all times until he was fully recovered.

      “Can’t one of you stay with him?” she asked, looking at each man in turn. “Or maybe hire someone to oversee his care?”

      “Hiring a nurse would be out of the question,” T.J. said, adamantly shaking his head. “That would just piss him off and traumatize some poor nurse after she figured out he’s like a grizzly with a sore paw when he can’t do things for himself.”

      “Any one of us could arrange to stay with him, but that wouldn’t solve the problem of Sam not getting overly stressed,” Lane said as if weighing his words carefully. “He doesn’t remember that the two of you were in the process of getting a divorce, let alone that you moved out. And right now that’s information he doesn’t need to hear.” Being a professional poker player, the man was a master at strategy and logic. At the moment, he was doing a fine job of using both to wear her down.

      “You know we would do it for Sam in a heartbeat, but we aren’t who he’s going to expect—or want—to be with him,” Ryder pointed out.

      “But all my things are in Dallas,” she said, feeling trapped. “Don’t you think he’ll notice there are none of my personal effects in the ranch house? No clothes. No pictures of my family.”

      She knew it was a weak argument, but how was she supposed to get on with rebuilding her life if she had to go back to Sugar Creek Ranch and all the problems that had caused her to leave in the first place? And especially when the man she would be living with didn’t remember that those problems had become insurmountable.

      “We all have trucks and strong backs,” T.J. said, shrugging.

      Jaron nodded. “We can have you moved back into the house in nothing flat.”

      Sighing, Bria knew what they said made perfect sense, but it still didn’t make it any easier to accept defeat. She had just started to get used to the idea that she wouldn’t be living the life she had planned when she married Sam. For three years, she had envisioned herself as a stay-at-home wife and mother to the big family they had planned to have. Then after making the painful decision to leave him, she had to start thinking about re-entering the workforce and building a career.

      “If I do this, it’s only temporary.” She felt as if she was taking a huge step back from the course she had set for herself three months ago.

      “Got it,” Nate said.

      “I’m starting a new job as a marketing consultant for one of the department stores in Dallas in a few weeks when they start to expand their women’s clothing line, and I can’t afford to miss out on this opportunity,” she stressed. “I’m lucky they allowed me the time to get the divorce finalized and my feet back under me before I start the job. I’m not going to ask for more.”

      “I’m certain Sam will have his memory back by then,” Lane assured her.

      “And I wouldn’t want everything moved back to the ranch,” she warned them.

      “Just tell us what you want out of your apartment and we’ll make sure that it’s in the house by the time you and Sam get home,” Ryder said, smiling.

      Nate checked his watch. “We’d better get moving. They’re going to discharge Sam in a couple hours. That doesn’t give us a lot time to get to Dallas and then out to the ranch before you two get there.”

      “Just get my clothes and shoes out of the closet,” she said, resigned. “I’ll go into town and buy whatever else I need.”

      “Are you sure that’s it?” Ryder asked, frowning. “Won’t you need your under—”

      “Positive,”