I stopped being so stubborn and lived the kind of life she wanted me to.”
Derek frowned. “And your father just sat by and let all this happen?”
“He let her call the shots,” she said sadly. “He knew I wanted more from my life, but he took my mother’s lead.” She gulped again. “I’d hoped Dad and I would get closer after she died, and we did—for a brief time. But the closeness only lasted a year or so. Then he was diagnosed, and now …” She let out a shaky breath. “Now he doesn’t even know who I am.”
As his heart constricted, Derek reached across the armrest and took her hand. She jerked in surprise, her gaze flying to his, but she didn’t pull her hand away.
Her skin was hot to the touch and so very smooth. Derek’s pulse quickened, a rush of desire flooding his body as Amelia gently rubbed her thumb over the center of his palm. Christ. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held a woman’s hand. Consoling overwrought patients didn’t count; he frequently offered comfort to the folks he treated. But this was different. This was … terrifying.
Struggling to steady the erratic thudding of his heart, he slowly brought his hand back to the steering wheel, avoiding Amelia’s eyes. “Shall we continue the tour?” he asked thickly.
“Actually, um, maybe we should head back.” From the corner of his eye, he saw her edging closer to the door, as if trying to put distance between them. “I really do need to get started fixing up my apartment.”
He ignored the disappointment that clenched his insides, knowing it was for the best if she left now. This strange attraction to Amelia Phillips unsettled him. He wasn’t looking to get involved with anyone—not now and not in the future. Besides, Amelia was his nurse. He signed her paychecks, for chrissake.
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” he said as he executed a U-turn and steered the car back in the direction of the main house. “Now that you’re sticking around in Eden Falls, you’ll need a cozy place to go home to.”
By the time they reached the ranch house, Amelia looked as relieved as Derek felt. She practically launched herself out of the passenger seat, then shot him a nervous smile. “I had a nice time, Derek. Please thank your family for a lovely dinner.”
“Will do,” he said gruffly. “Have a good night, Amelia. Drive safe.”
“Night, Derek.”
As he watched her hurry toward her car, he reached up to rub the five-o’clock shadow dotting his jaw and wondered why the hell this woman affected him so damn much.
Chloe’s heart raced as she drove away from the Double C. Rolling farmland and rustic houses flashed by the car window, but she couldn’t pay attention to the scenery, not when Derek’s baritone voice continued to run through her mind.
Who are you?
In that moment, she’d feared he’d figured out her secret—that she wasn’t Amelia Phillips, but Chloe Moreno, the woman who’d faked a suicide and fled to the other end of the country to escape her husband.
Funny enough, when she’d realized that Derek wasn’t interrogating her, but just trying to get to know her better, her panic only intensified. The more time she spent with Derek Colton, the more she liked him, but she knew she couldn’t let herself open up to him, no matter how badly she wanted to. Felix might believe she was dead, but it would take a long time for Chloe to feel safe again.
The clip-clop of horse hooves caught her attention and she slowed the car, stopping to let a horse and buggy cross. The bearded Amish man at the reins wore a dark-colored suit and a black hat with a wide brim. He nodded in thanks as their eyes met through the windshield, and Chloe managed a weak smile. Sometimes she envied the Amish citizens residing in the area. Their lives were so simple, revolving around hard work, humility and family. She’d give her right arm for that simplicity, for just one day without this deep ache in her bones.
Simple doesn’t mean safe.
The ominous reminder had her spirits sinking even lower. God, nothing and nobody were immune to danger and heartache. The missing Paradise Ridge girls were proof of that.
As the buggy disappeared down the darkness-bathed road, Chloe continued straight, driving into the heart of town. The downtown shops had closed for the night, but the glow of the lampposts lining the streets illuminated the windows and drew her gaze to the holiday decorations gracing the storefronts.
This would be her first Christmas in twelve years without Felix. The realization made her think back to the very start of their marriage, when she’d been young and foolish and completely in love with the older, distinguished doctor.
All her life she’d been nagged by her high-society mother to marry a successful man. She was taught to hold her tongue and look pretty, to aspire for nothing more than the security a husband could offer. Ironically, she’d thought she was defying her mother when she’d married Felix. She’d met him while working in the trauma unit at the hospital in L.A.; back then he’d been an up-and-coming plastic surgeon, immediately sucking her in with his dark good-looks and undeniable charm. He’d actually valued her opinion, encouraging her to speak her mind, challenging her with thought-provoking discussions, treating her like a worthy partner rather than the daughter of Martin and Lynn Hathaway, a pair of wealthy Midwest transplants to Beverly Hills.
She should’ve recognized Felix’s controlling nature when he convinced her to quit nursing and demanded she stay at home, but he’d seemed so eager to start a family with her. And she’d wanted the same thing—to be a mother to Felix’s children. She wanted it so badly she’d agreed to concentrate on their marriage and soon-to-be family rather than her career.
But now she was on the other side of the country, choking down the bitter taste in her mouth and parking her Toyota in the tiny parking lot at the rear of her two-story apartment building. She had to stop thinking about Felix and focus on the fresh start she’d been presented with.
Fishing her keys out of her purse, she locked the car and headed for the back entrance of the building. Her apartment was on the second floor, but the building didn’t have an elevator so she had to climb the rickety wooden stairs, which squeaked beneath her boots.
When she reached her apartment, the door swung open before she could even turn the key.
She winced. The latch on the door had been loose since she’d moved in, but she hadn’t gotten around to fixing it yet. Besides, after three weeks in Eden Falls, she’d discovered that hardly anyone locked their doors around here. The crime rate in town was zero—or at least it had been until those Amish girls had begun disappearing.
Entering her apartment, Chloe made a mental note to get the doorknob fixed tomorrow. After the attempted kidnapping of Violet Chastain, she really needed to take better precautions.
Right, because a scarred, middle-aged woman is a mighty draw for a sex ring.
Fine, so the sick perverts snatching up those innocent girls probably wouldn’t take a second look at Chloe Moreno aka Amelia Phillips. But that didn’t mean she shouldn’t be more careful.
After she removed her outerwear and tossed her purse on the plaid-upholstered couch she’d purchased from the sole furniture store in town, she ducked into her small kitchen and brewed herself a cup of tea. She still had that bookshelf to assemble, but at the moment she wanted nothing more than to sit on the sofa, watch the ten o’clock news and clear her head.
Heading back to the living room, she set her tea on the square glass coffee table, then settled on the couch. She drew a flannel blanket around her legs and flicked the remote control.
The second the screen came to life, sound blared from the television speakers.
“I, Chloe, take you, Felix, to be my lawfully wedded husband.”
Horror slammed into Chloe’s chest with the force of a sledgehammer.
Her eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets as she