The One Worth Waiting For by Alicia Scott Read Free Book Online

heal,” she said at last, “and then he’ll remember, and you and he can take care of it. Just wait and see.”
    The following days, however, proved her wrong.
    Cagney returned the car to the airport, and Garret’s fever came down while the strange words disappeared completely from his mutterings. Dr. Jacobs grew more satisfied with his general health although he was still concerned about the persistent loss of memory. But after several days of probing and prodding, they concluded that Garret could recall most of his more distant past, and certainly had no trouble retaining new memories since he’d arrived at Suzanne’s. On the other hand, he couldn’t recollect events of the past two years, only images of fire and bullets. Dr. Jacobs finally diagnosed it as a traumatic memory loss. Hopefully, the memories would return as he became able to deal with them.
    In the meantime, the IV disappeared, and Garret slipped into long days of sleeping, sleeping and sleeping.
    Suzanne grew used to those days. With Dr. Jacobs’s help, she tended to him, his sleeping form passive and characterless. From time to time, she had to fend off earnest offers from friends to come assist her with her own supposed illhealth, but lies seemed to come more readily to her tongue nowadays.
    By the fourth day, she didn’t give the situation much thought anymore. Until she walked into the guest bedroom with a fresh pitcher of water, and found Garret standing naked in the middle of the room.
    He swayed slightly where he stood, his body pale but impressive with his feet planted on her old hardwood floor. Her eyes flew open, the color draining from her face. And in her shock, she couldn’t quite avert her gaze.
    She saw muscle-bound, darkly haired legs with zigzagging scars down one side. She saw a black-furrowed chest with a narrow line darting through a washboard stomach to areas that made her eyes grow even wider. For a moment, the pure shock made her sway on her own feet.
    “I want clothes,” Garret snarled.
    Her wide hazel eyes riveted up, the heat of her cheeks more searing than his fever had ever been. “Wh-what?” she sounded out breathlessly. But he just stood there as if his nakedness meant nothing, and pinned her with his dark, glittering eyes.
    “Clothes, damn it,” he repeated impatiently. “I want my clothes back.”
    She recovered enough to set the pitcher down on a side table, her hands shaking enough to make it a small feat. Her pulse still pounded in her neck, but she forced her scattered thoughts together. Efficient and practical, Suzanne. Remember?
    But all of sudden, she was feeling lips on hers in the rain, her young body pressed against the solid, muscled mass, before he whispered, “Someday.”
    “Come on, damn it, I need my clothes.”
    He took a step forward with his scarred leg, and that spurred her thoughts back together. She stiffened her spine and forced herself to meet his burning eyes even as her cheeks flushed darker.
    “We threw away your clothes,” she said simply, her chin unconsciously setting.
    He scowled, the expression dangerous and disconcerting in his unshaven face. “I need clothes,” he growled again. His eyes bore into her own, as if from sheer force of will he could make the desired garments appear in her hands.
    It took effort for her even to swallow. “I have a few skirts that are a tad on the large side,” she returned squarely. “Perhaps you’d like to give them a try.” He scowled even more, but she simply shrugged defiantly. “I’m telling you, we threw away your clothes. They were blood-soaked and filthy.”
    His face set, and underneath the thick covers of his whiskers, she could see his skin pale. He took another step, and this time wavered perceptibly. The damn fool was most likely going to faint on her floor. And naked no less.
    “Back into bed,” she announced briskly, using her best kindergarten teacher’s voice. To prove her point, she walked sternly forward, looking at