The Husband She Can't Remember (Southwest Secrets Series Book 1) Read online

  THE HUSBAND SHE CAN’T REMEMBER

  Tina Cambria

  ABOUT THIS BOOK

  Copyright  2019 Casselton House, LLC

  Cover image used under license from Shutterstock.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About The Author

  Tina's Books

  CHAPTER ONE

  She couldn’t be pregnant!

  Danielle Brinkworth shifted on the sofa. “Get real,” she said, glaring at her best friend Leslie Martinson. “I have a lingering virus. A little more rest, and I’ll be fine.”

  “Seriously, I think you’re pregnant.”

  “I should’ve gotten a flu shot last winter.” Danielle shrugged. “My mistake.”

  “A flu shot might not have been a bad idea,” Leslie said, “but you need to take a pregnancy test.”

  “What on earth for?”

  “To see if you’re pregnant, of course.” Leslie’s brows pulled together. “Your nausea, lack of energy…and lately you’ve been complaining about tingly breasts. Those are classic signs of the early stage of pregnancy.”

  “Come on, I’ve pretty much done nothing but mope around your house for almost five weeks since I was released from the hospital.” She’d always thought Leslie was a highly qualified nurse, but this conversation raised some doubts. Danielle lifted her chin. “You need a man to get pregnant, and I haven’t been with one.”

  “Maybe not since your car accident, but what about the week before that?”

  “Nothing happened in L.A., if that’s what you’re implying.” Danielle crossed her arms across her chest.

  Leslie narrowed her eyes. “You don’t remember anything from the time you left L.A. until you regained consciousness after your accident. There’s a whole week of your life that’s unaccounted for.”

  What was Leslie insinuating? That Danielle had somehow gotten pregnant on the trip from California back home to Colorado?

  Yeah, right.

  She’d never even been intimate with her former fiancé. Maybe she ought to remind Leslie of that. But why bother? Leslie would only start in about how Walter Ferguson had never been Danielle’s fiancé since there was no proposal, no engagement ring, and no wedding plans.

  “Come on, Leslie. You know nothing’s happened between Walter and me.”

  Leslie’s eyes lit up. “I guess I’d be shocked if you told me Walter had taken things to the next level, so to speak.”

  “And he’s only stopped by here once since I’ve gotten back from L.A.” Danielle was a little embarrassed to admit that her so-called fiancé—or it would be more accurate to call him her former so-called fiancé—had barely attempted to make any kind of move on her in all the time she’d known him. Then again, she hadn’t totally minded Walter being a little old-fashioned. A couple of her boyfriends back in college were just the opposite, and those relationships had flamed out after a few months.

  “Just humor me, okay?” Leslie laughed, and then her face turned serious. “Hopefully, you’ve only got some minor virus. So, I’ll pick up a pregnancy test, and we’ll make sure that’s not what’s causing your symptoms.”

  “If that’s what it takes to make you stop talking crazy talk, I’ll pee on a little stick for you,” Danielle said, letting out a huff. The test would turn out negative anyway. It was nothing more than a waste of money.

  “Trust me,” Leslie said. “It’s a good idea.

  Danielle didn’t agree, but she owed Leslie big time. Her best buddy had let her stay at her house for five weeks while recuperating from the car accident. Leslie was beyond generous. So what if her biology knowledge was a little deficient for a nurse? It wouldn’t hurt to simply play along and do the pregnancy test. Then when it turned out negative—as Danielle knew it would—she’d drink plenty of fluids and overdose on resting to knock out this pesky virus.

  After Leslie left for the drugstore, Danielle settled on the sofa and tried to focus on a TV cooking show. Feeling a chill, she pulled a quilt from the back of the sofa to cover her tank top and pajama bottoms.

  Pregnant? No way.

  She’d spent six months in L.A. and hadn’t strayed so much as an inch from the straight and narrow. In fact, some people would call her a prude for chucking her dreams because of what she’d been asked to do.

  But why should she care what anyone thought of her? She’d given it her best shot. Nothing to be ashamed of. Still, her transformation from an energetic teacher and aspiring actress into a total couch potato had taken its toll on her outlook. How many other twenty-six-year-old women would spend five weeks mostly watching TV, flipping through magazines, and petting their best friend’s dog?

  None that she knew. And she was more than ready for a change. Stir-crazy was what her Nana would call it.

  If only she didn’t feel so…confused and worn-out—

  She stopped herself. It was simply a matter of getting her energy back. And getting back her memories of that missing week. After that, she’d focus on a new dream.

  Struggling to keep her eyes open, she gave in to sleep. She had no idea how much time had passed when the barks of Leslie’s dog Ollie woke her. “What is it, boy?” Danielle sat up on the sofa to find the bulldog with his front paws on the living room windowsill. “What’s out there?”

  She draped the quilt over her shoulders and hurried to the window to see what was bothering the dog. “Must be that guy who’s parked in front of the house,” Danielle said, patting the growling bulldog on the head. “Is that what you’re so excited about, Ollie?”

  She spied a tall, dark-haired man emerging from a car and then pulling off a t-shirt to expose a muscular chest and powerfully-built arms to match. Now this was something she could get interested in. The tiniest bit of guilt trickled through her, but she quickly dismissed it. She was hardly violating the man’s privacy by staring at him when he was the one standing shirtless on a public street.

  Unable to look away, she watched the man retrieve a sport shirt from the back seat of the car, quickly put it on, and button it as he strode up Leslie’s driveway. Danielle gulped at the air to calm her racing heart and then instinctively held her breath. The guy looked like he had urgent business to take care of.

  She moved away from the window a second before the man stepped onto Leslie’s porch and rang the bell. Now what? Answer the door to a stranger? An extremely good-looking and well-built stranger. But should his looks make a difference when there was a question of safety?

  Curiosity won out over suspicion. “Who’s there?” Danielle called out from behind the door.

  “Danielle? Is that you?” a deep voice answered. “Please open the door.”

  Her friend’s dog hopped up on his hind legs and scratched at the door. “Quiet, Ollie!” Danielle scolded. Or would the barks of the small bulldog be enough to scare away the str
anger on the porch?

  Her thoughts jumbled. This fellow had to know her. How else would he know her name? After all, the doctors told her she had partial amnesia from the blow she’d probably taken to the head in the accident. He was most likely a forgotten friend from L.A. who’d been swallowed by that black hole of amnesia…

  Cautiously opening the door, Danielle came face to face with over six feet of manly attractiveness. His brown eyes flew open wide when he saw her, and then he gave her a quick once-over.

  “How do you know me?” she demanded. “Who are you?”

  The man took a step back, recoiling as though he’d been slapped. “Danielle, what do you mean?” His jaw dropped, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I’m your husband.”

  * * *

  What was she trying to pull?

  Granted, Kyle hadn’t known her very long, and he hadn’t seen her for over five weeks. But this was definitely Danielle. His Danielle. Danielle Brinkworth, of New Loudon, Colorado. Now Danielle Williams, his lawful wife.

  The little bit of color in Danielle’s face immediately disappeared. “My husband?”

  “What’s going on, baby?” Something was definitely off. She looked almost…ghostly. “You didn’t forget me that quickly, did you?”

  “I-I need to sit down,” she stammered, and sagged sideways.

  Kyle caught her, wrapping one arm under her knees and the other arm around her back. Gathering Danielle into his arms, he gently carried her to the sofa and covered her with the quilt that had been covering her shoulders. A jowly bulldog followed them and barked again. That had to be her friend’s dog Ollie, from Danielle’s description of him. “Take it easy, Ollie,” he said, quieting him with several strokes to the dog’s head.

  Danielle’s eyelids fluttered, and confused-looking blue eyes stared back at him.

  Tentatively stepping away, he shared in her confusion. He still had a hard time believing he’d flown all the way to Denver and then driven to New Loudon to track her down. But what else could he do? He hadn’t been able to reach her by phone or text message since she’d headed off from Las Vegas, promising to contact him after she got back to Colorado.

  “I haven’t heard from you in weeks. You made me crazy-worried about you.” Kyle pondered Danielle reclining on the sofa. For all he knew, she might have decided she wanted nothing more to do with him. It wouldn’t be the first time a woman decided that. But it would be the first time a woman went so far as to actually marry him and then decided he wasn’t the right man for her.

  Her mouth fell open. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

  Am I nuts for coming here?

  It wasn’t like him to chase down women who didn’t answer his messages. And it definitely wasn’t like him to spend a few hundred bucks for a flight, fly over two hours, and then drive another fifty miles from the airport in search of a woman who didn’t answer his messages.

  Except this one was his wife.

  No, this sure wasn’t the type of thing he would normally do. Not for any woman, no matter how silky her blond hair was, or how velvety her pale skin felt when he ran his rough hands over it—hold on, his mind had drifted to a place he didn’t intend it to go.

  Business came first. He and Danielle had a legal matter to settle, and that was his top priority. She was supposed to make a decision and finalize the paperwork. He’d agreed to accept whatever she decided, but first he had to find out what her decision was.

  “Danielle, are you sick or something?” Kyle took in her pajama bottoms and tank top and checked the time on his cell phone to make sure it really was early afternoon. “Not to be rude, but why aren’t you dressed at this time of day? You don’t look like…yourself.”

  “I don’t even know you. So, I can’t imagine how you’d know what I usually look like.”

  Now he’d lost his patience. They’d made a deal. And the ball was in her court.

  “Are you trying to pull a fast one on me?” Irritation bubbled up inside him. “I know I left you with options. And you have a big decision to make. But why are you trying to act like you don’t even know me? Don’t tell me you’re ashamed of what happened.”

  “Do I have something to be ashamed of?” Danielle asked, her voice quivering.

  “I guess that depends on your definition of right and wrong.” Kyle couldn’t stop himself from grinning.

  He pictured Danielle giving him a breezy wave as she drove off toward Denver from Las Vegas. As she’d smiled and pulled away, he would’ve sworn she would decide to continue their partnership.

  And that’s what Kyle wanted her to decide. Yeah, he had to admit it. He didn’t want to end things with her. Now that he’d tracked her down, he didn’t want her to sign those papers. What had started as a simple business deal had quickly gotten real complicated. But in a good way.

  No, Kyle Williams wasn’t one to run away from problems. He’d own up to that. Hell, he created enough of his own problems that it would be impossible to run away from them.

  “Now you really have me worried,” Danielle said. “Talking about right and wrong.” She worked the edge of the quilt through her fingers. “Er, what did I do that someone might consider as wrong?”

  Before he could answer, the front door opened. A woman stood in the doorway, taking in the scene. With her fists clenched on her hips and her chest thrust out, she reminded Kyle of a plainclothes version of Wonder Woman, but with a pixie haircut.

  “Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?” she demanded.

  Straightening his shoulders, Kyle stood and locked eyes with her. “I’m Danielle’s husband, and I’m here because I haven’t heard a word from her in over five weeks.”

  Now it was the Wonder Woman-wannabe’s turn to have the color drain from her face. She slumped and released her hold on the small shopping bag she was carrying.

  Kyle hurried across the room toward her. Two fainting women in one afternoon. What kind of weird place had he wandered into?

  But the dizzy expression quickly passed from the woman’s face, and she managed to right herself and turn to Danielle. “Do you know this guy?”

  Danielle shook her head. “I-I don’t remember him.”

  The woman assumed her superhero pose for a second time, and her voice turned challenging again as she faced Kyle. “You’d better get out of my house, or I’m calling the cops right now. Danielle’s not married. To you or anybody else. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but it’s officially over.”

  “I’ve got the marriage certificate in my car if you’d like to see it.” He matched her challenging tone as he bent down to retrieve the shopping bag she’d dropped. A box labeled “pregnancy test” spilled out of the bag as he picked it up. “What have we here?”

  Neither woman said a word.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Pregnant.

  Danielle stared at the word on the little stick. If the accuracy claims on the box were right, it was more than ninety-nine-percent sure that she was indeed pregnant. Those were pretty good odds.

  But how? Well, she knew how. The birds and the bees and all that stuff.

  But when? And with whom? Not that man outside the bathroom door waiting for her to give him the news. Exactly who was he, anyway?

  She might not be able to remember what had happened during the time after she’d left L.A. until she’d wound up in a hospital in western Colorado a week later. But at least now she had an idea of one thing she’d done in the course of that missing week.

  Oh, and she’d apparently married him too.

  What did he say his name was? Or had he even said? Her thoughts bounced around like popcorn kernels in the microwave. He’d called out her name from the porch, and he’d claimed to be her husband after she’d opened the door. And then when he saw the box with the pregnancy test, he’d just assumed that she—and not her friend—was the one who needed to check whether she was pregnant. With his baby.

  And it turned out he was right.
About the pregnancy part, at least. But was he the father? If only she could recall how she met him. Or where they’d met. Was he really claiming that she’d married him?

  Why couldn’t she remember any of this?

  His polite but persistent rapping at the powder room door pulled Danielle back into the here-and-now. She’d had less than a minute to try to make sense of the effect that word on the plastic stick would have on her life, and now this stranger was pressing her to share the news with him. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  “Don’t keep me in suspense. What’s the result?”

  “Just a minute…” What the heck was his name? Here he was demanding to know the most personal details of her life, and she didn’t have a clue who the guy was. Going strictly on his looks, she might not mind getting to know him better. On the other hand, for all she knew, he could be one of those clean-cut serial killers.

  Strange modus operandi for a serial killer. Show up at the intended victim’s door claiming to be her husband and then force her to take a pregnancy test. Wait—he’d somehow found out her name and shown up where she was staying. Then when Leslie arrived with the pregnancy test, he’d had a fifty-fifty chance of picking the right woman. But for what purpose?

  And that still didn’t explain how—according to that little plastic stick—she was pregnant when she couldn’t even remember doing what was required to get that way.

  “I’m coming right out,” she said, trying to keep her tone light and breezy. Would he grab her and put a knife to her throat when she opened the powder room door? Had he already overpowered Leslie? She shouldn’t have left her friend alone with him when he’d insisted he wasn’t leaving until she took the pregnancy test.

  Why had she even opened the front door to him?

  If only her cell phone hadn’t been demolished in the car accident. She should’ve replaced it by now. That way she could call 911 and get a patrol car over ASAP. But what would she tell the police officer? She’d opened the door to a man who was now forcing her to take a pregnancy test? A test that she’d been planning to take anyway.