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Circumstantial Memories
Carol Ericson
Covert agent Ryder McClintock had returned home for the first time in years only to come face-to-face with Julia Rousseau, the woman with whom he'd once shared a bed–then been forced to leave behind. Forgetting her had been impossible, but because of an accident, she was left with no memory…including the name of her baby's father. A little girl who looked remarkably like Ryder. But before he could tell Julia about their shared past, he needed to protect her and his daughter from someone determined to spoil their reunion.And as the threats escalated and Julia's memory returned, Ryder sensed her stalker's grudge ran much deeper than they realized….



Julia cried out as the blunt truth slammed against her chest. Ryder gripped her hands.
“I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”
She squeezed his hands. “Stop. It’s not your fault. I attracted this stalker somehow. I let him into our lives.”
Ryder straightened his shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Let’s put the blame where it belongs—on this maniac who’s been terrorizing you and has now snatched your daughter. And let’s deal with him.”
“How? We don’t know where he is. Or who he is.”
“He’ll find you, Julia.”
“He wants me.”
A chill zinged up her spine, and she hunched her shoulders. Ryder pulled her into his arms, which represented her only safe harbor these days. He wove his fingers through her hair, pulling her head back to look into her face.
“We’ll get her back, and then I’ll keep both of you safe forever…or die trying.”

Circumstantial Memories
Carol Ericson


To Neil, for these small hours,
these little wonders

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Carol Ericson lives with her husband and two sons in Southern California, home of state-of-the-art cosmetic surgery, wild freeway chases, palm trees bending in the Santa Ana winds and a million amazing stories. These stories, along with hordes of virile men and feisty women clamor for release from Carol’s head. It makes for some interesting headaches until she sets them free to fulfill their destinies and her readers’ fantasies. To find out more about Carol, her books and her strange headaches, please visit her Web site at www.carolericson.com, “where romance flirts with danger.”

CAST OF CHARACTERS
Julia Rousseau—For four years, she’s had no memory of a past that gave her a four-year-old daughter, but when Ryder McClintock materializes, memories of danger—and desire—flood her senses.
Ryder McClintock—When he returns to Colorado on leave from his latest covert ops assignment, he’s stunned to discover the woman he loves…with no memory of their past together. Now he must reclaim her love, and his daughter, before a menace from Julia’s past destroys their future.
Jeremy Scott—Julia’s ex-husband and Ryder’s ex-coworker died in a fiery explosion four years ago, but his evil continues to overshadow their lives.
Dr. Jim Brody—Julia’s therapist seems to have more interest in getting close to Julia than helping her recover her memories.
Deputy Sheriff Zack Ballard—Do his suspicious actions link him to the threats against Julia, or does he have another secret?
Charlie Malone—This shy, bumbling mama’s boy has a crush on Julia and resents the new man in her life.
Rosie Fletcher—A dead-ringer for Julia, she holds an important key to Julia’s safety, but her amorous adventures put her life in danger.
Shelby Rousseau—Julia’s daughter is the one person who kept Julia grounded during the dark days of her amnesia. But as the terror that engulfs Julia spreads to her daughter, will it bring Julia and Ryder closer together or tear them apart?

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
Epilogue

Chapter One
Julia glanced in her rearview mirror at the car gaining on her and muttered, “Zut alors.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. She didn’t know she could speak French.
She tried out a few more phrases, clean ones this time, and the words tumbled from her lips in an accent worthy of Pepé Le Pew. Shelby would be thrilled her mom could talk like one of her favorite cartoon characters.
And Dr. Brody, Jim, would be thrilled with this latest discovery—another key to her past.
The glare from the insistent headlights illuminated her car again as she pulled out of the curve. Why did this guy have his brights on? She accelerated on the straightaway, gripping the wheel with clammy hands.
This highway through the mountains always gave her the jitters, ever since she plowed over the guardrail almost four years ago in a howling blizzard.
Her neighbors, the Stokers, cautioned her against taking night classes at the university to prevent her from driving this road after dark, but she had to move beyond her fears. Besides she needed this class to finish her general education requirements and start taking her upper-division psychology courses. She’d just taken her final exam and opted out of the summer session, so she wouldn’t have to make this drive at night until the fall.
The car behind her honked and she jumped, jerking the steering wheel to the right. Go around me, you moron. She didn’t plan on going any faster than the speed limit. Maybe he’d pass her on the next straightaway. All of the rush-hour traffic had cleared, leaving a handful of cars negotiating the turns and bends between Durango and Silverhill.
Coming out of the next turn, Julia buzzed down the window and waved her arm to motion the car around her. She eased off the gas pedal as the car made its move to her left. The sedan pulled into the empty oncoming traffic lane and slowed down next to her.
With her heart galloping, she glanced into the dark car as the driver rolled down the passenger window. A man with black hair and sunglasses leaned toward the open window and yelled. The wind snatched his words, but she could just make out, “Pull over. Flat tire. Lug nuts.”
She had a flat tire? The car dropped back and slid in behind her again. Turning down the radio with trembling fingers, she listened for any unusual thumping on the road. Her little car rolled smoothly on the asphalt, taking each turn with ease. How could she have a flat?
Biting her bottom lip, she peered into the rearview mirror at the blue sedan still riding her tail. Was this some kind of trick to get her to pull off the road? Maybe if the guy had a family with him she’d follow his advice, but she didn’t have any intention of stopping for some single guy in the middle of the night, especially some single guy wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night. Did he think he was Jack Nicholson or something?
Over the past three years, she’d finally put the freaks and weirdos behind her. She didn’t need to go looking for them.
She sped up to put distance between her car and the dark sedan behind her. Her tires squealed as she took the last curve on the highway and her car shuddered in the back. She gasped and squeezed the steering wheel. Maybe she did have a flat.
The light from Ben Pickett’s service station glowed at the bottom of the hill, and Julia’s pulse slowed to a steady beat. At nine o’clock Ben would still be working.
Careening into the parking lot, she angled her car in front of the brightly lit market. She hunched down in the seat and watched the dark sedan speed past the service station. Either the driver didn’t realize she’d stopped or he figured he performed his good deed for the night…or he knew he couldn’t strangle her at the service station.
She jumped at the tap on her window. Ben, his cap pulled low on his forehead, grinned at her.
Dragging in a breath, she powered down the window. “Hey, Ben.”
“You heading home after class?”
Living in Silverhill, everyone knew her business, but she didn’t mind. It gave her a sense of security. At least someone cared about her.
“Yeah, I am. A guy pulled up next to me and yelled out the window that I had a flat tire. The car wobbled when I came off the hill.”
“Well, let’s have a look.” He disappeared as he crouched behind her car and then his head popped up. “The tire ain’t flat, but the lug nuts on your right rear wheel are loose. I’ll tighten those right up.”
Ben got some tools, and Julia ambled into the market to get some coffee. She wrapped her hands around the steaming foam cup as she stepped into the cool night air to watch Ben work. Settling her shoulders against her car door, she gazed into the blackness where the road led into Silverhill. No sign of the dark sedan and the dark-haired man.
Why did he tell her she had a flat tire and how did he know the lug nuts were loose?
Unless he’d loosened them.

JULIA HATED secret admirers.
She crushed the wildflowers in her fist, the petals dropping like tears onto the porch and the sweet smell clinging to her fingers. Someone placed a similar bunch, tied with a pink ribbon, in the same spot two days ago. No note, no name.
Her gaze darted from her fenced-in garden to the street beyond. Nobody lingered to see if she received the gift. Nobody waved, claiming to be the thoughtful neighbor.
Julia hated secrets.
Taking a deep breath, she tilted her head back and drank in the view of tall mountain peaks ringing the cozy town of Silverhill. Their proximity instilled a sense of security deep in her bones. The Colorado Rockies kept the outside world at bay, creating a safe haven for her and her daughter in this little community.
The trees across the road rustled, and Julia narrowed her eyes as she scanned the greenery. The incident with the tire last week had her on edge. She’d asked around and a few people told her a loose wheel could resemble a flat tire on the highway. The man in the car was probably more Good Samaritan than Ted Bundy. But a single woman couldn’t be too careful. Especially a single woman with no memory.
She spotted a flash of red clothing zigzagging through the trees and her pulse ticked up a few notches. Tossing the bedraggled bouquet over the porch railing into the dirt, she backed up to her front door and stumbled over the threshold. The screen door slammed and she reached for the door handle.
A woman’s voice sang out, “How are you today, Julia?”
Julia peered through the mesh of the screen door, releasing her pent-up breath. Gracie Malone, the town gossip, leaned over her garden fence, waving.
Julia would be damned if she’d have Gracie spreading stories about how she scampered inside her house the minute she saw someone in her front yard.
“I’m just fine, Gracie. Out for an early morning walk?” She shoved the screen door open and wedged her shoulder on the doorjamb.
“Yes, and you? Are you and that adorable little girl of yours going for a hike this morning?” Gracie’s bright little eyes, like black buttons, flickered from the beribboned flowers on the ground to Julia’s face.
“I’m packing up right now.” Or she had been until she noticed the scraggly posies on the porch railing.
“It’s such a shame Shelby doesn’t have a father.” Gracie shook her head back and forth in an exaggerated fashion, her tight gray curls quivering. She tapped her chin. “Charlie’s still sweet on you. We have a lot of room in that old Victorian, you know, even with the B and B.”
Julia knew Gracie desperately wanted to marry off her only son so she could have more people in the house to boss around and someone to help out with the guests. So desperate she’d saddle her only son with the town freak.
“We’re going to get ready for that hike now. You have a good day.” Julia left the front door open, settling on locking the screen door. She had more to fear from Gracie Malone and her dull son than some secret admirer. Could that secret admirer be Charlie?
“Mama?” Shelby padded out of her bedroom rubbing her eyes with bunched-up fists.
“Hey, sleepyhead. We’re going on a hike this morning.” She scooped Shelby into her arms and buried her face in her neck, inhaling the sweet fragrance of watermelon shampoo from her hair. At four, Shelby no longer had that pure baby smell, but new, interesting smells were replacing it. Little girl smells.
Shelby giggled as Julia found her ticklish spot along her collarbone. “I’ll help you get dressed.”
Twenty minutes later, Julia swung the backpack over her shoulder and locked the front door behind her. Crushing the crumpled flowers into the dirt with her heel, she took Shelby’s hand and headed toward the road.
From Silverhill’s main street, they picked up the entrance to the mile-long trail that wound its way into the foothills. The trail followed a soft slope, skirting outcroppings of rock and spreading into fields of wildflowers and gentle streams—a perfect outing for a four-year-old and a woman still fighting to regain emotional stability.
Spring had come early to the Rockies and summer was hot on its heels. The early morning sun warmed Julia’s face. Shelby slowed the pace by picking up stones, snatching flowers from the rock crevices and veering off the path to chase butterflies.
“Ouch!” A rock bit into Julia’s heel. When she stopped to slip off her shoe, Shelby zipped around the next bend. Holding her sneaker, Julia hobbled after her.
“Shelby?” She rounded the corner, but Shelby had disappeared. A swath of anxiety settled on her skin as her gaze raked through the thick patch of trees. Julia plowed forward, rubbing her arms. “Shelby, come back or we’re going home right now.”
Her mischievous daughter crawled out from behind a log, pinching a worm between two fingers.
“Okay, you can drop that right there.” Julia held up her hands, wrinkling her nose at her tomboy daughter.
Shelby placed the worm on the log and waved to it before returning to Julia’s side. She grabbed Shelby’s wrist and marched her back to the trail. “Stay with me now.”
When they got back to the path, a small rock tumbled from above. Glancing up, Julia glimpsed a shadow passing across the face of the cliff. She called out, “Hello?”
A tree rustled and a branch snapped, sending a bird screeching into the sky. She glanced back at the sandy-colored cliffs, tightening her grip on Shelby’s wrist. Cupping a hand over her mouth, she breathed in and out slowly to steady her galloping heart. She thought she’d put those panic attacks behind her, but a few crackling twigs and falling rocks could still bring on a racing heart and shallow breathing.
“Run, Mama.” Shelby slid out of Julia’s clammy grasp and skipped ahead, landing face-down in a patch of bluebells.
“Shelby!” Julia tripped after her, sinking to her knees in the flowers.
Shelby rolled onto her back, covering her face with two small dirty hands. She peeked through her fingers and giggled. A surge of warm relief melted Julia’s rigid muscles and she kissed Shelby’s butterscotch curls.
“Silly girl. You scared me.”
“Mama scared?” Shelby sat up, scooping a handful of bluebells in her fist and dropping them into Julia’s lap.
Julia peered into the shadows and crevices of the rocks and shook her head. “No, I’m not scared…anymore.”
The fear that had enveloped her when she first found herself in Silverhill had dissipated over the past four years, driven away by friendly neighbors, soothing words and warm suppers. But sometimes it descended on her with no warning, dropping like an anvil in the middle of the night or silently stealing over her, one uneasy moment at a time. Like today.
She twisted her head over her shoulder to study the trail she and Shelby had just traversed. A sense of doom dogged her on the hike, a feeling of being watched and followed. It started with the stranger in the car and picked up with the flowers left on her porch two days ago and then again today. Most women would be thrilled with a secret admirer. She wasn’t most women.
The flowers could’ve come from a neighbor. Julia massaged her temples. And she didn’t own this trail. Locals and tourists alike took the mile hike up to the rock formations known as “The Twirling Ballerinas.” Anyone could’ve been hiking behind them.
Why didn’t they answer when she called out?
Julia cradled the bluebells in her palms and buried her face in their fresh fragrance. Too bad the flowers weren’t forget-me-nots.
Maybe then she could remember who she was, remember Shelby’s father, and remember what shadowy menace stalked her.
Shelby’s hands, smelling of moist dirt, pulled at Julia’s fingers. “Peekaboo.”
Smiling, Julia spread her fingers wide. “Peekaboo to you.”
Whatever happened in her past, it brought Shelby into her life so it couldn’t have been all doom and gloom. Her daughter’s laughter acted like a ray of sunshine capable of piercing the solid block of ice, which was all that remained of Julia’s memory despite Dr. Jim Brody’s best efforts.
Shelby shrieked, “No, peekaboo to you.”
“Can anyone play this game?”
Gasping, Julia dropped her hands and pulled Shelby against her body before the intruder’s voice registered. Shelby squirmed in her arms, and Julia loosened her grip as Clem Stoker came into view, his shaggy gray eyebrows drawn together over his nose.
Shelby scampered toward Clem and threw her arms around his legs. “Uncle Clem.”
Julia swallowed the lump in her throat. Of course Clem wasn’t Shelby’s uncle. Shelby didn’t have an uncle or a family or a father, at least none that Julia could remember, but Clem treated them like family as did many of the residents of Silverhill after Julia’s accident.
“How’s my buttercup?” He lifted her up in the air and swung her around, shifting his gaze to Julia. “Are you okay, Julia? I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. Just when the residents of Silverhill had stopped tiptoeing on eggshells around her, she had to jump at rustling leaves. “Did you just come up the trail behind us?”
“No.” Clem hoisted Shelby on his shoulders. “I’m on my way back from The Twirling Ballerinas. Are you headed that way or do you want to hike back to town with me?”
“We’ll go back with you.” She hated the tremor in her voice. She knew she had a backbone. It came in handy when she recovered from the injuries she sustained from the car wreck and gave birth to Shelby six weeks later amid strangers.
She fingered the gold chain around her neck with Julia written in script, the only clue to her identity and a past she couldn’t reclaim, not even with the help of a hypnotist in Denver, Dr. Jim, her psychologist in Durango, and local media coverage.
She stopped her search when the marriage proposals started pouring in and strange people cropped up to claim her as family.
A sense of dread smothered her each time someone called professing to be her husband, mother, sister or fiancé. She knew in her heart she didn’t want her past to find her. The car accident hadn’t caused her black eye.
“Come on then.” Clem extended his weather-beaten hand to her, and she gripped it. “Good thing I came along. You’re too frail to carry Shelby back, and I think she’s getting tired.”
“I’m not frail,” Julia snapped and then covered her mouth.
“I didn’t mean it like that, honey.” Clem patted her shoulder.
“You’ve got more gumption than most men twice your size, but you don’t have much meat on your bones and this little lady is getting bigger every day.”
He tickled Shelby’s calf, and she plowed her heel into his chest.
“Shelby, be careful. If you want to ride on Clem’s shoulders, sit still.”
Clem laughed. “See what I mean? She’s a rambunctious buttercup.”
Shelby loved the word and repeated “bumptious, bumptious, bumptious,” each time Clem bounced her on his shoulders.
By the time they reached the end of the trail, which spilled onto Silverhill’s main street, they were all singing a made-up song about bumptious buttercups. Julia took deep, cleansing breaths of the mountain air, stuffing her previous panic on the dusty shelf of her former life.
They rounded a corner onto the street, and a tall man in jeans and a white cowboy hat glanced up after smacking the back of another man getting into a car.
Julia’s pulse ticked up a notch. Strangers. She pulled in a breath and rolled her shoulders back. Tourists.
“Lordy, lordy.” Clem stopped beside her, giving Shelby one last bounce on his shoulders. “Look who the cat dragged in. You look like hell, boy.”
If that tall, rangy man with the wide shoulders and tight jeans looked like hell, send her straight to the devil. She grinned at her visceral response to the stranger. It had been a long time since she felt that gut-wrenching lust for a man.
“Sorry, Julia.” Clem covered Shelby’s ears a little too late.
The man took a step forward, his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide. His tanned face blanched and he reached forward with an unsteady hand.
He looked like he was seeing a ghost…and he was staring right at her.

THROUGH THE ROARING in his ears, Ryder McClintock heard Clem’s voice saying his name, but he couldn’t respond. All his muscles seized up and his feet felt rooted to the ground.
A crease formed between Julia’s eyebrows and she tilted her head to the side, long brown hair sliding across her shoulder. She had different hair and different clothes, but unless he was in the middle of a dream, Julia Rousseau stood before him in the flesh.
“Ryder, what’s the matter?” Clem ambled forward and shook his hand, slapping him on the back. Then he reached up to steady the little girl on his shoulders. “You been away so long, the altitude got to you?”
The fog lifted and pinpricks of excitement raced up his spine. She had come to him. Julia had come to him.
“Julia, you’re here.” Ryder twisted away from Clem and reached for her.
Stumbling back, Julia put her hands up. “Who are you?”
Her words punched him in the gut and he nearly doubled over. Was this some kind of game? Did she want to punish him for leaving her? She, more than anyone, knew he had no choice.
“Julia, it’s me, Ryder. Why didn’t you write to me? Why didn’t you answer my letters?”
Clem choked and grabbed his shoulder. “Are you telling me you know Julia?”
Ryder swiveled his head around. Clem regarded him with the same open-mouthed astonishment that Ryder had bestowed on Julia. Didn’t Julia tell the residents of Silverhill that she knew him?
“What the hell is going on?” Ryder shook his head and swept off his hat. His gaze darted between Julia and Clem, and he plowed his fingers through his hair. “Didn’t you tell them?”
The blankness of her face pierced his heart. She didn’t recognize him. Three and a half years, and she didn’t recognize him. Something else in her expression twisted the dagger even deeper—panic. Julia feared him.
“Don’t you recognize me? Ryder McClintock.” He felt like a fool introducing himself to the woman he loved with a burning, searing passion—even when he thought she’d deserted him. He took another step forward, and she took a matching step back.
“Ryder.” Clem gripped his arm. “Julia doesn’t know you. She lost her memory over three years ago when her car took a dive off Highway 160.”
Clem’s words sucked the air out of Ryder’s lungs and a vice squeezed his chest. He searched Julia’s face for a glimmer of recognition, for the smile that used to curve her lip, when he told bad jokes, the light in her eyes. Nothing. Worse than nothing—wariness, doubt…fear.
If she didn’t recognize him, how’d she wind up here? She must have been coming to him, or rather his family, when she had that accident. What compelled her to seek sanctuary with his family? Did she know about Jeremy?
“I—I, Julia may not know me,” he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes to blot out Julia’s look of bafflement, “but I know Julia.”
Clem laughed and did a little jig in the street. “That’s a miracle, Julia. Do you know who Ryder is? He’s Ralph’s boy come home. You must’ve been coming to see Ryder when your car took that tumble. Now you can get your life back all right and tight.”
Ryder shifted his gaze to Julia, twisting her hands in front of her. She didn’t look happy about the prospect of getting her life back.
“I don’t get it.” Ryder rubbed his knuckles along his jaw. “Didn’t Julia have any ID on her? Didn’t the police check the registration on the car?”
“Let’s not talk about this in the middle of the street.” Clem shifted the little girl on his shoulders. “We’ll go back to my place and Millie can make us some lunch. She still makes the best lemonade in Silverhill, Ryder.”
Clem’s granddaughter whinnied and patted Clem on the head. “Let’s go. Ride ’em, cowboy.”
The tightness of Julia’s face smoothed out a little. She must know his family. Who didn’t know the McClintocks in Silverhill? They practically ran the town. Ryder took a deep breath. This might not be so bad. How could it be when he’d found Julia again?
Ryder smiled at the little girl. “Another granddaughter, Clem? Has to be Maddy’s with those blond curls.”
Clem swung the girl off his shoulders. “No, not one of mine. This here’s Julia’s daughter.”
The smile froze on Ryder’s face as he gritted his teeth. The girl ran to Julia and wrapped her arms around her legs, smiling shyly at him over her shoulder.
She must be about four years old, and if his guess was right…she belonged to him.

Chapter Two
Clem filled the stranger’s ears with local gossip as they ambled toward his house, covering the awkwardness that hung in the air like one of those heavy Native American blankets sold from roadside campers.
The truth of her past hovered right around the corner and she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Perhaps this stranger…no, Ryder McClintock…didn’t know her that well. Wouldn’t his family have recognized her name as one of Ryder’s friends? Of course, they knew only her first name.
His father and stepmother didn’t mention him often and he hadn’t been to visit them in over three years. She recalled talk of the McClintocks’ middle boy working overseas on some kind of a secret mission. How did she know a spy? Perhaps they had some brief acquaintance.
If she didn’t know him well, why was she on her way to see him that fateful night when her car skidded off the road in a snowstorm? That couldn’t be a coincidence. She must’ve been seeking out Ryder when she crashed, but where had he been the past three years?
As Ryder chatted with Clem, his responses terse, he avoided looking at her but seemed fascinated by Shelby. Julia’s heart skittered in her chest. He could probably tell her all about Shelby’s father, where he was and why he never came looking for them.
“Hat, please.” Shelby strained away from Julia’s tight grip, leaning toward Ryder.
“You want my hat?” Ryder grinned down at Shelby, a gleam lighting his blue eyes.
“I’m sorry. Everyone spoils her around here.” She tugged Shelby back to her side. “Don’t be rude, Shelby.”
“Her name’s Shelby?” Ryder shoved his hands into his tight blue jeans. “That was my grandmother’s name.”
“I know. Ralph, your father, told me that after I named her.”
She folded her arms, gripping her elbows. “Do you think…?”
“Hat.” Shelby stomped her feet before planting them firmly on the dirt road.
“Young lady,” Julia crouched next to her, “I’m going to tell Aunt Millie not to give you any sugar cookies unless you behave yourself.” She secretly thanked her daughter for the distraction. After almost four years of having a blank slate for a memory, she didn’t think she could handle someone filling up that slate too quickly.
Julia looked up at the man who held the key to her identity and rolled her eyes. “She’s stubborn.”
“Just like…” Ryder stopped and clenched his jaw. Then he lifted his hat from his head and placed it on Shelby’s. “There you go, a real Colorado cowgirl.”
Shelby squealed and holding her hands in front of her as if gripping reins, she trotted around the three adults, as the hat slid down to her nose.
“Thanks, but you didn’t have to do that.” Julia stood up next to Ryder as a breeze lifted the ends of his brown hair, touched with gold. She flinched at the pain lurking in his eyes and it took a physical effort for her not to reach up and smooth her palms across the creases at the sides of his mouth.
She couldn’t be Ryder McClintock’s wife. His family would’ve known if he had a wife. Ryder could give her a husband and a father for Shelby, it just wouldn’t be him. Her throat tightened and tears pricked behind her eyes.
Her knees trembled at her response to this tall, broad-shouldered man—the McClintocks’ son. She slipped her arm through Clem’s, leaning on his shoulder.
“R-Ryder and I have to talk, Clem.”
“I know that, honey.” He patted her shoulder. “Let’s just make it back to my place, and Millie will get some lunch for Shelby and you two can have some privacy.”
Clem’s neat ranch house appeared all too soon. His wife, Millie, waved from the porch, a dish towel in her hand. She called out, “I heard Ryder was back in town. How’d you get him first?”
“Just luck.” Clem strode to the porch as fast as his old bones could carry him and mumbled something to Millie.
Julia overheard her name, Ryder’s name, and something about her memory. Word would spread as fast as a Colorado brushfire. It always did.
“Mercy me.” Millie covered her mouth with the dish towel, her eyes wide above it. She scurried down the steps and stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on Ryder’s cheek. “I hope you can help our Julia.”
Clem grabbed Shelby’s hand. “C’mon, buttercup, cookies and lemonade for you after lunch and then I’ll take you out to see Missycat’s kittens.”
Millie placed a plump arm around Julia’s shoulders. “You and Ryder can have the patio out back. Plenty of privacy there.”
Julia’s stomach churned and she stumbled on the top step. Ryder placed a steadying hand against the small of her back, beneath her backpack, his warmth seeping through the thin cotton of her T-shirt. Her hyperawareness of him had to be due to their connection in her previous life.
She always referred to her past as her previous life, as if it had no bearing on the life she led in Silverhill. The foolish phrase allowed her to ignore the terror she always felt when she groped in the shadowy darkness of her past for answers. Now a collision between her past and present loomed before her. Was she ready for the fallout?
“Behave yourself and don’t be greedy.” Julia settled Shelby at the Stokers’ kitchen table, while Millie handed Ryder two glasses of lemonade.
Ryder led the way to the patio and Julia followed, her gaze clinging to his tight jeans molded to his behind—a pleasant distraction from the uncertainty that lurked around the corner.
Too bad Ryder didn’t rush in claiming to be her long-lost husband like so many others had. She might have accepted Ryder’s story without question.
He clicked the glasses down on the glass-topped table, and then pulled out her chair. The legs scraping against the flagstone jarred her from her pleasant reverie back to the present…back to the past. She perched on the edge of the chair and wrapped her hands around the sweating glass.
Settling beside her, Ryder sipped his lemonade and then turned his blue eyes to her. His gaze meandered over her face and hair and skimmed her shoulders. A sinuous warmth suffused her skin, his intimate inventory feeling like a caress.
“You look…different.”
“Let’s cut to the chase, Ryder.” She rubbed her damp palms on the thighs of her jeans. “Who am I?”
A quick grin split his face. “Not so different after all.”
His smile took her breath away, and she gripped the edge of the table to keep from sliding beneath it. Damn, if this man wasn’t her husband in her previous life, she must’ve had a hot fling with him. Or should have.
“Okay.” He planted his hands on his knees. “Your name is Julia Scott, although after you and Jeremy separated you started using your maiden name, Rousseau. How’d you remember your first name?”
“Wait a minute.” A dull pain thumped behind her eyes as she held up her hands. “You’re going too fast. I’m divorced?”
Dragging in a breath, Ryder raked a hand through his thick brown hair and the sun glinted off the golden streaks. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m not very good at filling in someone about her life. You were married to Jeremy Scott for less than a year. Things didn’t go so well after he got back from Afghanistan, and you split up.”
“Afghanistan? My husband was in the military?” Maybe the military deployed him again, and that’s why he never looked for her.
“Yeah.” Ryder shifted his gaze and took a long swallow of lemonade.
“And my parents? My family? Why didn’t anyone else look for me?” She held her breath as she watched Ryder trace beads of moisture on the glass with his fingertip.
“I don’t think you have close family in the States, Julia. Your father, Girard Rousseau, was a diplomat with the U.S. Embassy in France. He passed away about five years ago. As far as I know, your mother, Celeste Rousseau, still lives in Paris.” A smile quirked the edge of his mouth. “And you and your mom were never close. When I called her, she said the two of you had had a falling out. She hadn’t seen or heard from you in years and figured you’d headed out for parts unknown.”
Yeah and who would figure those unknown parts would be her own mind? She slumped back in her chair and exhaled. Her father was dead. Her estranged mother lived in Paris. Her ex-husband was probably fighting overseas.
That explained the deafening silence when she tried to search for her identity. She clasped her hands in her lap. It didn’t explain her black eye or what she was doing in a stolen car with mounds of cash in the trunk and no ID.
Ryder’s large hand covered hers and his warmth soaked into her bones. “I’m sorry this happened to you, Julia. Didn’t you have any ID? Whose car were you driving?”
She met his gaze. His touch, his presence calmed her, making her feel as secure as those mountains that ringed her world for the past three and a half years.
“I didn’t have a purse, a suitcase or any identification with me. I was driving a stolen car. The police found the owner of the car in Washington, but he didn’t know me. Th-there was a lot of money in a bag in the backseat of the car, but the owner didn’t know anything about it. The police held on to the money for almost a year, tried to trace the serial numbers and then released it to me. It totaled about three hundred thousand dollars.”
His glittering blue eyes narrowed and he squeezed her hands before releasing them. “That’s a lot of money.”
“Why would I have that much money?”
“Your mom’s rich.” He lifted a shoulder, but his face tightened as if she’d transferred her anxiety to him.
“And the stolen car?”
“Did the police charge you with any crime?” he asked.
“No, they put it down to a mystery in my past, besides I was injured and pregnant. The owner of the car didn’t want to press any charges.”
“God, I wish I could’ve been there for you.” Ryder jumped up from his chair, knocking it to the ground.
His concern caused her heart to thump against her rib cage. He knew her…Julia Rousseau Scott…and he cared about her. That knowledge gave her strength, the strength to examine her past and unveil its secrets.
She took a deep breath. “How did you know me? It seems as if I didn’t have any friends who cared about me enough to search for me.”
“Oh, you had lots of friends.” He stopped pacing and shoved a hand in his pocket. “In Paris. I heard you’d followed Jeremy to Tucson, but if you landed here almost four years ago I don’t think you had time to form a circle of friends in Arizona.”
“You knew me in Paris?” Her voice squeaked. Even though she’d discovered she knew French last week, she never imagined she’d lived in Paris.
“That’s where I met you. I worked with…Jeremy and I served in the same unit. When I came to Paris on leave, Jeremy introduced me to his new wife.”
Ryder worked with her ex-husband? Did this mean her ex-husband was a spy, too? Did Jeremy even know about her pregnancy, about his daughter? Would she have to share Shelby with a stranger? Her gut clenched. She didn’t want to share Shelby with anyone.
Running her hands across her face as if brushing away cobwebs, she pushed out of her chair. “Where is he? Where’s Jeremy?”
Ryder spun around and gripped her shoulders. “Jeremy’s dead.”
She closed her eyes and waited for the grief, the sharp pang of regret, a twist of guilt. Nothing. She felt nothing but a flare of relief. No stranger would be knocking on her door to take Shelby for court-mandated visits with a father she didn’t know.
“Are you okay?” Ryder squeezed her shoulders.
Her eyes flew open. With his face inches from hers, she could smell his strong, clean scent and the citrus on his breath from the fresh lemonade. Two lines formed on either side of his mouth and his nostrils flared. Did he expect her to collapse?
“I—I don’t feel anything. I know he was your friend, but all I feel is relief that he can’t take my daughter. Am I a horrible person? I’m sorry you lost your friend.” A sob escaped her lips for the man, Shelby’s father, she’d never know.
The pressure on her shoulders turned to a caress and Ryder pulled her into an embrace. She molded against his hard body, and he tightened his arms around her, laying his cheek on the top of her head. Her blood sang in her veins as she rested against the solid comfort of his chest.
He murmured against her hair, “You’re not a horrible person. Your reaction is natural. You don’t remember Jeremy. How could you feel anything about the news of his death?”
Julia curled her arms around Ryder’s waist. Maybe if Jeremy stood here on the Stokers’ patio, holding her in his arms, she’d remember. The strong connection she felt with Ryder bubbled up from somewhere in her subconscious. Dr. Jim always believed if she met someone from her past, memories would start to return.
The memories still remained blank, but the feeling she had for Ryder surged through her, real and strong. She turned her head and pressed her lips against the warm skin of his throat, moving her hips against his. His breath hissed between his teeth, and she jumped back, disentangling herself from his embrace and the confusing feelings swirling in her head.
“I—I’m sorry.” She covered her face with her hands to hide the hot flash that claimed her cheeks.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about. This must be…” He placed his hand on her back and steered her back to her chair. “Sit.”
She dropped into the chair, and Ryder shoved her glass of lemonade in front of her. She gulped the cool liquid and then pressed the glass against her hot face. Ryder must think she’d lost her mind along with her memory, coming onto him right after learning about her dead husband…ex-husband.
“How did Jeremy die and when?” She had to start piecing together the string of events in her past life that led to her accident in a stolen car with a bag of cash.
“You were living in Paris when Jeremy finished his last assignment.” He cocked his head. “Do you know that you speak French like a native?”
“Yeah, I discovered that just last week.”
Shaking his head, he said, “Weird.”
“You don’t know the half of weird. Go on.”
“You worked as a tour guide at the Louvre. Anyway, Jeremy returned from the field, and you two fought and decided to separate.”
“After one fight?” Her marriage to Jeremy couldn’t have been that strong.
“One of many fights.” Ryder shrugged his broad shoulders. “Jeremy left his job and went out to Tucson. When I found out about Jeremy’s…death, I called you in Paris. That’s when I learned you went to the States, but I don’t know why you followed him.”
“I was with him when he died?” She swallowed the uneasy lump in her throat.
“I don’t know, Julia. I saw you last in Paris before I left for my next assignment.” He shifted his gaze from hers and stared across the Stokers’ back yard that stretched into a paddock for their horses. “When I heard about Jeremy I called you, but you were gone. When I got back to Paris, I looked for you again, but you’d disappeared. I didn’t see you again until today.”
“You didn’t answer my question, Ryder.” Wings of anxiety fluttered in her belly. Something didn’t add up about Ryder’s story. He said Jeremy was in Afghanistan, in the military, but he talked of assignments instead of deployment. And what American soldier lived in Paris? The McClintocks never mentioned their son being in the armed services. He worked for a government agency, some said the CIA.
“How did Jeremy die?”
“Julia, we don’t have to go into this right now. You must be on overload. There’s plenty of time to get into this stuff, and I’ll be around for a while.”
“Before you get your next assignment?” She crossed her arms, squelching all the squishy feelings she had about this man. She needed some answers. “What agency do you work for?”
Leaning back in his chair, he stretched his long legs in front of him. His worn cowboy boots looked right at home on the dusty roads that led from Silverhill to the ranches that surrounded it. Of course he fit in because his family owned one of the biggest ranches, but he was also at home in Paris, Afghanistan, and wherever else he’d been hiding out these past three and a half years.
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Or you’d have to kill me?” Her own attempt at humor caused a chill to ripple down her spine. Hunching her shoulders, she gripped her upper arms. “I must’ve known at some point because I was married to one of your coworkers.”
“You knew a little, but it’s best for those memories to stay buried.”
“Damn you.” She banged her fist on the table, and the ice in the glasses tinkled and shook. “You’re not the gatekeeper of my memories. Did Jeremy’s death have anything to do with this top secret agency? Is it the reason I was fleeing in a stolen car with gobs of cash?”
“I don’t know.”
“Liar.”
A quick grin broke across his face. “Still as hot-tempered as ever.”
She was? Nobody in Silverhill had ever accused her of having a hot temper. They tiptoed around sweet, gentle Julia and spoke in hushed voices so as not to startle her. She hated it.
Ryder sat forward and traced a finger along the knuckles of her clenched fist. “You never told me how you knew your name was Julia.”
A blatant attempt to change the subject, but his warm touch somehow made that okay. Not wanting to break away from him, Julia plucked her necklace from beneath her T-shirt with her other hand. Hooking her thumb behind the gold script of her name, she pulled it forward.
Ryder took it from her and ran the tip of his finger along the letters. Her heart ached at the gentle way he caressed her name. His eyes crinkled and a smile tugged at his lips.
“Do you recognize it?” She held her breath.
“Yeah, you wore it all the time.”
His eyes met hers, and she shivered at the longing mirrored in their depths. She shared a past with this man. His lips, inches from hers, invited her to explore further. As much as she wanted to, she had to learn more about herself, about her dead husband, Shelby’s father.
The patio door slid open, and Shelby barreled across the bricks and threw herself into Julia’s lap. “I want to go home. Uncle Clem said I could have a kitty.”
“Okay, we can go home now, but we have to wait until the kitties are ready to leave their mama.” Julia glanced at Ryder, who was smiling down at Shelby.
Shelby turned her head, a quick grin splitting her face. “I have your hat.”
“Then let’s go get it.” Ryder tweaked one of Shelby’s curls before he stood up. “And I’ll walk you and your mama home.”
Millie collected the glasses from the table, her gaze darting between Julia and Ryder. “You learn anything, honey?”
“Yeah, but we have a lot more to discuss.”
Ryder raised his brows, but before he could utter a word, Shelby grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the house. With narrowed eyes, Julia watched her daughter pull the handsome stranger inside. Seemed Ryder McClintock had cast a spell over her daughter, too.
As Julia and Ryder sauntered down the dirt road to her house, Shelby skipped ahead of them, examining every rock and stick along the way.
“She’s really bright and talkative.”
“She was my lifeline after the accident.” Tears pricked her eyes and she dashed them away. “Does she look anything like Jeremy?”
Ryder stiffened beside her and lifted a shoulder. “I think she looks like you.”
“Was I pregnant when Jeremy and I divorced?” It bothered her that she’d separate from her husband when they were going to have a child together.
Her house came into view, and Shelby pushed through the front gate.
“I didn’t know anything about your pregnancy.” Ryder kicked at some pebbles on the road. “You weren’t pregnant the last time I saw you in Paris…before I left on assignment.”
“Were Jeremy and I separated at that point?” She gnawed at her bottom lip, trying to piece together the strands of her life, like a movie where she knew the ending and had to figure out the beginning and the middle.
“Yes.” A muscle twitched in his jaw.
“Mama, more flowers.” Shelby ran back toward the road, clutching a bunch of wildflowers tied with a blue ribbon.
Julia’s heart pounded as she took the bouquet of flowers from her daughter. Two offerings in one day? Her secret admirer had just turned up the heat.
“Is anything wrong?” Ryder’s brow furrowed as he tilted his head.
“Someone has been leaving me flowers the past few weeks.” She shrugged with a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “A secret admirer.”
“You used to love flowers…roses.” He pushed the gate open for her. “That’s how Jeremy proposed to you. He filled your apartment in Paris with roses.”
“What an extravagant gesture. How’d it all go downhill from a rose-filled proposal?”
“You inspired extravagant gestures.”
“Me?” She laughed. “Now I inspire scraggly bouquets of wildflowers.”
She shoved her key in the door, pushing it open. Many residents of Silverhill left their doors unlocked, especially during the day, but she never felt safe doing that. Maybe once she reclaimed her past, she’d stop looking over her shoulder, even though that past according to Ryder McClintock still contained secrets and unanswered riddles.
“Does Shelby take a nap? If you’re not on overload, we can continue talking. I can tell you about the time you jumped in the fountain fully clothed and the other time when you inspired a skinny-dipping session at a party.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I am not.” His blue eyes gleamed with a wicked light. “I was at the party.”
Shelby danced around Ryder’s legs. “Come see my rock collection.”
“You can show Ryder your collection, and then it’s time for a nap.” She had a lot to learn about herself, that carefree, uninhibited woman…and a lot to learn about Ryder.
Julia slid the backpack off her shoulder and pushed open her bedroom door. She stopped at the threshold and grabbed the doorjamb for support.
The blood rushed to her head and the roaring in her ears drowned out the sound of her own scream as it ripped through her throat.

Chapter Three
Ryder dropped the shiny piece of obsidian and lurched to his feet. Shelby clutched his fingers, and he swept her up in his arms. He charged into the small hallway where Julia sagged against her bedroom door.
“What is it?” He shifted Shelby to his left arm, wrapping his right around Julia’s waist. She leaned against his body and pointed a shaking finger toward her bed.
Bits and pieces of shredded material lay scattered across the chintz coverlet. A pair of scissors extended from the middle of the mattress.
“Mama’s underwear.” Shelby squirmed out of his arms and scampered toward the mess on the bed.
“Shelby!” Julia shouted and yanked her daughter back. “Leave it alone. I—I forgot I left my underwear here this morning.”
She turned pleading eyes toward him, and when could he ever resist Julia Rousseau anything? Taming the rage that burned in his belly for the unknown intruder who just destroyed Julia’s peace, Ryder scooped up Shelby. “Why don’t you get a tea party ready for me in your room?”
By the time he settled Shelby in her bedroom and scoured the rest of the small house, he returned to Julia’s bedroom where she crouched beside the bed, fingering the remnants of lacy bras and silk panties.
“Don’t touch anything, Julia. Leave it for the police.”
Her hand trembled as she dropped the material and then she covered her face. He’d never seen Julia show weakness before and her fear punched him in the gut. What kind of maniacs were running around Silverhill these days? If, in fact, a Silverhill local played this sick joke.
Dropping to his knees beside her, he wrapped her in a tight embrace. He smoothed her long, silky hair with his palm and inhaled her fresh, sweet scent, which resembled those wildflowers she’d tossed on the coffee table. “Do you have any idea who did this? Could it be a stupid prank?”
She shook her head, burrowing deeper against his chest.
“It’s probably connected to those flowers.” It looked like Julia had a stalker who just graduated from innocent gifts of flowers to more sinister acts of intimacy. He’d returned home to Silverhill just in time to protect her.
Just like he’d protected her from Jeremy.
“I think it is.” She rubbed her nose on his shirt and pulled away from him. “I got the first bouquet two weeks ago, a second one last week, and two today. There was one on my porch this morning before we left on our hike.”
“What did you do with all of them?”
“I threw them away, except for the one this morning. I got sick of it and crushed the flowers into the dirt.”
He smoothed the hair from her brow. He wanted to kiss her, but held back. He had to give her some time before telling her about their relationship…and Shelby.
The little girl had to be his unless Julia and Jeremy indulged in some postseparation sex, and Julia would have never done that. She’d loved him as much as he loved her, still loved her. Somehow he had to win her love back, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t do it with secrets. And he couldn’t just charge back into her life and take what rightfully belonged to him. He had that little girl to consider now. He had to protect her, too.
He shook his head. “Seems your stalker saw the abandoned flowers and got pissed off.”
“Stalker?” A tremble rolled through her slight frame, and he silently cursed himself. He wanted to treat this intrusion lightly for her sake, brush it off as a harmless prank.
This Julia with her broken memories and tentative hold on a new life didn’t have the same strength as the old Julia, who routinely battled with her mother and kicked her cheating spouse to the curb.
“Maybe he’s just a harmless, love-struck fool.” He rubbed her back.
Tilting her chin toward the scissors, she said, “That doesn’t look harmless to me. How’d he get into my home?”
On his inspection of her house he noticed the back door slightly ajar, but he didn’t want to touch anything. “He may have broken in through the back. Let’s get the police over here. I know Will Ballard is still the sheriff because my brother, Rafe, works for him, but Rafe’s in the Academy since he transferred over from L.A. Who else is on the force?”
“Ballard’s son, Zack, works with him, too.”
He rolled his eyes, keeping the mood light. “Lord, save us from Zack Ballard.”
That earned him a snort and his heart clutched. Julia didn’t giggle. She snorted and then the snorts turned into big belly laughs that had everyone joining in. He wanted that woman back…although, this new Julia had a softness about her the old Julia would’ve scorned, and his retro-caveman side found it damned attractive.
The old Julia never wanted children either, but Ryder could tell Julia was a loving mother. Did she reconsider the idea of kids because she’d been carrying his baby? Why didn’t she tell him, and why did she go to Jeremy in Arizona? Did she even get a chance to see Jeremy before he died?
He couldn’t give her all her memories and didn’t know if he wanted to give her the bad ones. Of course she never told him about her pregnancy. He hadn’t wanted children, either.
He’d always shied away from commitments for just that reason. After the disaster of his parents’ marriage and his role in breaking apart his family, he didn’t want one of his own. Didn’t deserve one of his own.
Fifteen minutes later with Shelby sound asleep, the father-son team of Will and Zack Ballard showed up at Julia’s house. Ryder figured Will would’ve retired by now, but maybe he didn’t feel comfortable letting his bumbling son out on the streets without his guidance. Or he figured the new sheriff would fire Zack.
“Good to see you back, Ryder.” Zack crushed Ryder’s hand with his massive paw. “Are you going to stick around this time or do you have another secret assignment coming up?”
Ryder squeezed back until Zack blinked his eyes and struggled out of his grip. Zack always had to prove himself, and he did it with a pumped-up physique and a macho swagger.
“Can’t tell you that, Zack. That’s why it’s called a secret assignment.” Ryder winked to take out the sting of his words. He could understand Zack’s effort to escape the shadow of a larger-than-life father.
Ryder’s own father, Ralph, controlled his ranch and his family with an iron hand. It was one of the reasons Ryder took a job with the CIA—the top secret stuff came later when he joined the covert ops division, Black Cobra…and met Jeremy Scott.
“You look good, boy.” Will pounded him on the back while he shook his hand. He drew his bushy brows over his nose. “I heard you know Julia.”
“I’d forgotten how fast word travels in this town.” Ryder glanced at Julia, who was biting her luscious lower lip. He wanted to protect her from the small-town gossip mill, but she’d probably had a starring role these past few years. This new trouble would only add to her fame.
“Is he clearing things up for you?” Will patted Julia’s shoulder.
“A few things.” She compressed her lips, and Ryder knew he hadn’t escaped her tough questions.
“Let’s get down to business.” Zack crossed his arms over his pumped-up chest. “A perp broke into Julia’s house? Should we seal off the crime scene, Pop…I mean Sheriff Ballard?”
Ryder knew he could count on Zach for some comic relief. He shot a quick look at Julia and her dancing eyes met his as the corner of her mouth twitched. He couldn’t allow her to snort at Zack and destroy his manhood, so he grabbed Zack’s arm and spun him around toward the hallway. “I don’t know if you need to seal off the crime scene, but I’ll take you to the evidence.”
“What’s all this?” Zack stood in the center of Julia’s bedroom, cocking his head, a furrow between his brows.
“It’s my underwear, and the scissors some maniac used to cut it up.” Julia waved her arm at the bed, and then pointed to her open dresser drawer. “He got everything out of that drawer. Ryder and I didn’t touch anything in case he left fingerprints.”
Will pulled out two pairs of gloves from his briefcase and tossed one set to Zack, who’d dropped to his knees by the side of the bed.
Zack snapped on the gloves and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he ran his hands through Julia’s sliced-up lingerie. It thrilled Ryder that beneath her jeans and T-shirt Julia still had a fondness of sexy lingerie, but that didn’t mean he wanted some other man to get a thrill out of it.
“The scissors, Zack. Maybe he left prints.” Ryder kneed Zack in the back.
Zack reddened to the roots of his receding hairline. He plucked the scissors from the mattress and then dropped them in the plastic bag his father held out for him.
The Ballards dusted the rest of the room for prints, including the ransacked dresser drawer, but came up empty. Ryder showed them the back door. The intruder hadn’t left any prints there either, but he had jimmied the lock.
“Do you have another evidence bag for this?” Julia held up the flowers by the end of the yellow ribbon. “It was on my porch when we got home. There was another one this morning, but it’s gone, and I threw away the other two I got in the past two weeks.”
“Looks like you got yourself a secret admirer, Julia. The flowers and the scene in the bedroom are obviously connected.” Will took the bouquet from Julia and dropped it into another plastic bag.
Julia hunched her shoulders. “The flowers were one thing, but why did he get violent?”
“Probably because you didn’t show proper appreciation for the offering this morning.” Ryder draped an arm around Julia, and turned to Will. “Julia stomped on the flowers the guy left this morning.”
“Seems like overkill to me.” Will jerked his thumb toward the bedroom. “Anyone ask you on a date, Julia? Someone you turned down?”
Leaning against Ryder, Julia shook her head. “N-no.”
Ryder clenched his jaw. Was she lying? Why would she lie to protect someone? Julia had been loyal to a fault. Her girlfriends in Paris tried to warn her about Jeremy’s cheating ways, but Julia shrugged them off. Until she walked in on the evidence.
Will grabbed his hat. “Get that lock fixed, and I know you always do, but keep your doors locked. Be aware of your surroundings and be careful going to and from that night class in Durango.”
Julia jerked beneath his arm, and Ryder slid a gaze to her face, which paled. “Anything else?”
Gripping her hands in front of her, Julia told them about the driver of a dark sedan trying to get her to pull over on the highway and the loose lug nuts on her wheel.
“Do you think he might have something to do with the break-in?” Her gaze darted between the three men, settling on Will.
“Maybe. Did you get a good look at the driver?” Will took a spiral notebook out of his pocket and scribbled a few notes.
“No. It was dark. He was wearing sunglasses, which was weird, and he had black hair, but it could’ve been brown.” Julia glanced at Ryder’s hair.
Great. Did she suspect him?
“Just be careful.” Will shoved his notebook back in his pocket. “We’ll run the scissors and the ribbons for fingerprints. Doesn’t help that we’re at the beginning of the summer tourist season. The hotels, B and B’s and dude ranches are already filling up, and we have plenty of strangers in town.”
“I’ll make sure she stays safe.” Ryder clasped Julia’s hands, still wound tightly in front of her.
Will’s brows shot up and Julia stepped back, snatching her hands away from Ryder.
Zack cleared his throat. “Don’t tell me you’re married to Julia, too.”
Will elbowed his son in the ribs. “Let’s get going, Zack. I’m sure Ryder and Julia have a lot to discuss outside of all this mess. We’ll let you know if we find anything, Julia.”
When the Ballards left, Julia peeked in on Shelby and then returned to the scene of the crime to sift through her shredded lingerie.
Ryder propped a shoulder on the door. “Anything salvageable?”
“Not much.” Perching on the edge of the bed, she held up two pieces of a bra, snipped in half.
His gut twisted and he dug his shoulder into the doorjamb to keep from rushing across the room and taking her in his arms. Did this attack have anything to do with her past? He owed her the truth. She’d be safer knowing the truth.
“Zack’s an idiot, but did you have a lot of men coming out of the woodwork claiming to be your husband?”
Julia fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “Yeah. The local papers ran my story and scores of people stepped forward to claim me.” Her hands clawed at the remnants of her underwear.
“I felt sorry for most of them seeking runaway daughters, missing wives, lost sisters. They all came looking for something. They all wanted me to be someone.”
A cold fear cinched the back of his neck. Any of those imposters could’ve fooled her. “How did you rule them out?”
“They had to have proof.” She scooped up the silky material and let it fall on top of her like giant, colorful snowflakes. “And nobody had it.”
“Have you tried to regain your memory?”
“Yep—first a hypnotist and then a psychologist. I’m still working on it. I see Dr. Brody in Durango once a week. He’s a hypnotist, too, but that didn’t work for me.”
“Is he helping at all? Have you had any glimmers of memories?”
She sat up, clutching the shredded underwear to her chest. “Not until today.”
“You mean my telling you about your past triggered some memories?” He held his breath, his heart thumping painfully against his rib cage.
“No. You did.”
“What does that mean?”
“You.” She jumped up and the silky material slid from her body, pooling on the floor. “Just being near you makes me feel…”
She remembered. Ryder took a step forward, but Julia held her hands out, palms forward. The gesture sliced him like a sharp blade. He had to give her time. He had to give Shelby time. Would this new Julia fall in love with him all over again?
“Tell me about Jeremy. How did I meet him?”
He clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to talk about her and Jeremy and their ill-fated relationship, but he represented her only link to her past right now and she deserved to get that back. Warts and all.
“Like I mentioned, you worked as a tour guide at the Louvre. Jeremy worked for the same organization as I do, a covert branch of the CIA, and he went to Paris between assignments.”
Her brown eyes widened. “I was married to a spy? How did we meet?”
“Where a lot of couples meet, at a party.”
She sawed at her bottom lip, a small crease between her brows. “Did I party a lot?”
Not only did Julia party a lot, she was the life of every party she attended. Her wild behavior and expensive tastes attracted a merry band of revelers willing to follow her anywhere.
“Well?”
Ryder glanced at the woman before him, her hands shoved into a pair of faded jeans, a smudge of dirt on the shoulder of her cheap T-shirt.
“Yeah, you did. Your father had passed away the year before and I think most of your…hijinks…came from grief. Anyway, you and Jeremy hit it off and got married a few months later.”
“Short courtship, no wonder it ended in divorce.” She scuffed the toe of her tennis shoe against the carpet. “Were you at that party?”
“No.” If he had been there, Jeremy never would’ve had a chance with Julia.
“The marriage must’ve gone downhill pretty quickly.”
“I’m sorry, Julia. Jeremy cheated on you, and you found out the hard way.”
She shrugged. “It’s not as if I remember the guy, but it’s not easy to hear that Shelby’s father was a cheat.”
Ryder licked his dry lips. She needed more time. Maybe she’d remember on her own. “Is this ringing any bells?”
“It resounds here.” She clenched her fist and tapped her chest above her heart. “When I started looking for my identity, I had the feeling I didn’t want to find my husband. I wanted to stay lost. Now I know why.”
“Yeah, but we still don’t know why you followed him to Arizona.”
“A package.” Julia gasped and pressed her fingers to her temples.
“What?” Ryder’s head jerked up. “Do you remember something?”
Sinking to the bed, Julia massaged her head. “I just had a flash of memory—a picture of a small flat package wrapped in white paper and tied with twine.”
“Have you ever had a flash of memory like this before?” Ryder settled on the bed next to her, running a hand down her stiff back.
“Only once, but it was a word that came to me, not a picture.”
“What was the word?”
“A name—Shelby.”
The air whistled through Ryder’s teeth. Julia remembered his grandmother’s name and chose it for her daughter…his daughter.
“Ryder.” She placed her hand on his thigh. “Why would I name my daughter after your grandmother? Why did I come here to Silverhill?”
Ryder debated just what to tell her, how honest he should be. He didn’t think she was ready to hear the whole truth. “We talked a lot, Julia.” He plucked her hand from his leg, turned it over, and traced a fingertip along the lines on her palm. “I told you about Silverhill, about my family’s ranch and my grandmother who worked alongside my grandfather to build the ranch. Her strength and determination fascinated you.”
“Because I had a life filled with frivolous parties and superficial relationships?”
“Maybe.” He rubbed his thumb in the center of her hand. “But you weren’t superficial. You were strong…are strong, and I think you wanted something more from your life.”
“Do you think I decided to find it in Silverhill?” She folded her fingers over his thumb, capturing it against the warmth of her hand.
“I think you delivered that package to Jeremy, and something happened in Arizona, something that landed you in a stolen car with mounds of cash. You fled to Silverhill to seek the protection of my family, the family you’d heard so much about.”
She shook her head and her silky brown hair slid over her shoulder. “But what? What could’ve happened?”
Ryder pushed up from the bed and paced in front of the window. Did he want these memories to come back for her? Would they put her in danger?
“You know.” Julia jumped from the bed and blocked his path, hands planted on her hips. “Tell me. How did Jeremy die and where?”
Ryder blew out a breath and squared his shoulders. “Jeremy was murdered over three years ago…in Arizona.”

Chapter Four
A dull pain thudded against her temples and she dropped to the edge of the bed. “Three years ago in Arizona?”
“I heard about it a month after it happened.” Joining her on the bed, Ryder rested an arm across her shoulders. “That’s when I called you in Paris and discovered you’d left for the States.”
“Arizona.” She gripped the bedspread with stiff fingers. She must’ve seen Jeremy before he was murdered or maybe she witnessed the murder, or…“Do you think I…?”
“Had anything to do with the murder?” He stroked her hair, and his hands seemed to draw the tension out of her body. “Absolutely not. You’re no expert in explosives.”
“Explosives?” She jerked her head up. “Jeremy died in a bomb blast?”
“Someone planted plastiques around his house in Arizona and detonated them while Jeremy was inside. They identified his remains, or at least some jewelry he wore. The fire from the bomb blast incinerated his body.”
“Do you think that’s what I was running from? Do you think I was there when the house exploded and Jeremy died?”
“Maybe.” Ryder plucked up one of her hands, nervously bunching the bedspread, and chafed it between his two palms. “Julia, Jeremy was no longer working for the agency when he was killed. He was under investigation for espionage, selling State secrets.”
She swallowed and the pain in her head came roaring back. Her past got crazier and crazier each time Ryder revealed a piece of information. “Did the agency kill him?”
“Black Cobra works outside the boundaries of government oversight, but not that far outside. If we gathered enough evidence, we would’ve arrested him and charged him with treason.”
“Black Cobra? Is that the name of your agency?”
Squeezing her hand, he nodded. “Not even my family knows that, but you knew the name before. You deserve to know it now.”
Black Cobra. Drawing her brows together, she grabbed Ryder’s forearm and turned it around to inspect the inside, running her fingertip from his elbow to his wrist.
Ryder sucked in a sharp breath. “What is it, Julia? Do you remember something?”
“A tattoo. I remember a tattoo of a black snake, here on someone’s arm.”
“You remember Jeremy’s tattoo.” Ryder shrugged. “He had a flair for the dramatic.”
She jumped up from the bed. “Oh my God, it’s all going to come back to me, isn’t it? With you here feeding me information, I’m going to start remembering. I’ll finally know why I was in that stolen car with all the money. I’ll be able to give Shelby a little bit of her father back.”
Ryder stiffened, his blue eyes kindling with emotion.
“Jeremy wasn’t all bad, was he, Ryder?” She dropped to her knees in front of him. “I can tell Shelby a few good things about her father, can’t I?”
His jaw tightened and then he cupped her face in his hands. “Jeremy had a great sense of humor, always playing practical jokes. He attracted people to him effortlessly, could make anyone do just about anything. That’s why it cut so deep when he turned.”
“Why do you think he did it?” She leaned her elbows on his knees.
“He scratched and scrambled his way out of a tough neighborhood in New York. He liked money and material possessions. His government job didn’t provide him with enough of either. But more than anything, Jeremy liked to take risks.”
Crossing her legs, she leaned back on her hands. “I can’t believe I’d fall for someone like that and actually marry him.”
“You were in a vulnerable place after your father died.” His lips twisted. “Jeremy swept you off your feet. He could do that to women.”
“Apparently he didn’t stop doing it even after we got married.”
“No, but at least his infidelity opened your eyes, and you dumped him. I don’t think anyone had ever dumped Jeremy before.”
“I wish…” Drawing her knees to her chest, she covered her mouth with her hand. She wished Ryder with his strong presence and protective manner had been at that party in Paris instead of Jeremy. Maybe then he’d be Shelby’s father instead of some unfaithful, treasonous dead man.
“Are you all right?” Ryder slid to the floor in front of her, his knees touching hers. “What do you wish, Julia?”
His intense gaze seared her face, and her mind struggled to give him what he demanded—recognition. Although her brain couldn’t process Ryder McClintock, her heart could. She felt this man deep in her bones. Somehow she knew she could depend on him, had depended on him in the past. He’d saved her once, and she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to do so again.
Why wouldn’t he explain everything?
“You’re on the floor.” Shelby tumbled into the room, giggling. She wedged herself between them. “You’re silly.”
Plucking one of Shelby’s butterscotch curls between his fingers, Ryder said, “Grown-ups like to play on the floor sometimes, too. Kids don’t rule the floor.”
Shelby leaned against Ryder’s legs, touching a finger to his nose. “You’re silly.”
Her daughter knew she could depend on Ryder, too.
Ryder pushed up from the floor, tucking Shelby under one arm. “Do you ladies want to come to dinner at the McClintocks’ tonight?”
Shelby squealed as Ryder swung her back and forth.
Scrambling to her feet, Julia said, “We don’t want to intrude on your family. They’ve barely seen you since you’ve been home.”
“You’re right. They don’t see me for over three years and I drop my bags at the ranch and head on out again.” He set Shelby on her feet, and she reached up her arms for another ride.
“That’s enough, Shelby.”
“I don’t mind.” Ryder scooped up Shelby and carried her into the front yard. On the little patch of grass, he grasped her hands and they went around and around in a circle. Occasionally, Shelby’s feet left the ground and she shrieked in excitement.
“She’s a daredevil.” Julia laughed and shook her head. Shelby loved to play rough, but most of the surrogate fathers she had in Silverhill favored bad backs, walked with canes or tired out after fifteen minutes of Shelby time.
After a few wobbly steps, Shelby scampered away to add to her rock collection.
“That little girl has a lot of energy.” Ryder shoved his hands in the pockets of his faded jeans. “Are you sure about dinner tonight? I know Dad and Pam have heard all about our connection by now and would love to have you and Shelby over.”
Julia thought about sitting around the dinner table with the McClintocks—Ryder’s father, stepmother, his older brother, Rod, and various ranch hands—and shuddered. She craved peace and quiet after all the bombshells today and a night with the boisterous McClintocks promised anything but.
“I’ll pass on dinner, but can you do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
She blinked her eyes at the promptness of his response. He really did want to help her. “I have an appointment with my psychologist, Dr. Brody, tomorrow afternoon. Can you come with me? I think it would really help.”
“I’ll be there. What do you do with Shelby?”
“Millie Stoker takes her. I work with Millie’s daughter, Maddy, in their antique shop most days while Millie watches Shelby.” Julia knotted her hands. “I don’t want to pull you away from your family.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be here for a while before my next assignment. I’ll have plenty of time to catch up with the family. What time should I pick you up?”
The foliage across the road rustled and spewed out Gracie Malone and her son, Charlie. Gracie waved and made a beeline for Julia’s house, Charlie in tow. “We’ve all heard the exciting news. Imagine, all this time the McClintocks’ son knew you and you didn’t even realize it. Hello, Ryder.”
Ryder tipped his hat. “Gracie, Charlie. How’s the B and B going?”
Gracie’s rabbit-like nose twitched as her eyes darted between Julia and Ryder. “It’s good. We’re full up right now, but I sure wish I could find some better help. Charlie just hired a young woman, but she’s a little flighty…and a little trashy. The young people who come up here to work in the summer and ski in the winter aren’t very reliable, are they, Charlie?”
Charlie’s mouth hung slightly ajar as he stared at Julia, and her flesh crawled where his gaze slid down her body. She could totally see him pawing through her underwear.
“Are they, Charlie?” Gracie elbowed him, and he snapped his mouth shut and shook his head. She scowled at him and then pasted a smile on her face as she turned to Ryder. “So how do you know our Julia? Have you filled her in on all the details of her past yet?”
“We’re…ah…acquaintances.” Ryder lifted one broad shoulder. “And we’re taking it slow. Julia needs time to get her bearings and absorb everything I’m throwing at her.”
Yeah, like about a million years to absorb that she had a crooked spy for an ex-husband…and she may have witnessed his murder.

RYDER PULLED his truck in front of Julia’s neat little clapboard house with the white picket fence. He never thought he’d see the day when Julia Rousseau would be living behind a white picket fence…or wearing her hair in a ponytail.
Julia waved as she jogged down her front steps, hitching a large handbag over her shoulder. Ryder scrambled out of the truck to get the door for her and when she smiled her thanks, his heart flip-flopped in his chest.
His attraction to Julia hadn’t been all about appearance. The sexy, sophisticated siren with the couture clothing and perfect hair and makeup hooked him from the moment he saw her, but he loved the substance beneath the glossy exterior. Jeremy never got beyond that. When Jeremy discovered his wife had a strong will and a mind of her own, the marriage crumbled. Although he didn’t plan it, Ryder saw Julia through the fallout.
“How’s Shelby this morning?” He glanced at Julia before cranking on the engine. “Was she upset about the break-in yesterday?”
“No. She just thought her silly mommy threw her underwear all over the bed.” Julia snapped her seat belt in place.
“And how’s the silly mommy?” His gaze slid sideways to her face, still tense despite the smile.
“I’m fine.” She flipped the ponytail over her shoulder. “I bought some new underwear, a new bedspread and a pair of scissors. Then I had Gary the locksmith come out and reinforce all my locks.”
“That’s the exterior. What about the interior?” He tapped his chest with his fist.
“Of course I’m still jittery, but it’s amazing what a new set of locks can do for your peace of mind.” She clasped her hands between her knees. “Besides, all the stuff you told me yesterday occupied my mind more than a few sliced-up bras.”
“Did you remember anything else?” He held his breath. Should he tell her about their relationship before she remembered it on her own or should he wait? She’d seemed almost relieved when she discovered Shelby’s father was dead and out of the picture. Why would she want to share her daughter with a stranger?
“Nope. I’ve been trying to put a face and a body to that tattooed arm, but haven’t had any luck.” She spun around. “Do you have any pictures of Jeremy or can we get any from Black Cobra?”
“I don’t have any pictures, but I may be able to get one from the agency. Do you think it will help you to remember what happened in Arizona?” He brushed his fingers down her arm. “Are you sure you want to remember?”
She shivered. “Not sure at all, but it’s like bitter medicine. It’ll be good for me in the end. With you giving me information and working with Dr. Brody, I think I have a shot at recovering my memories—good and bad.”
“Who’s this Dr. Brody? Was he the first doctor you saw?”
If so, Julia put a lot of faith in a doctor who hadn’t helped her much in the past three years.
“No. Six months after the accident, I went to a hypnotist in Denver first and then a psychiatrist there. I stayed with them for six months, and they referred me to Dr. Brody in Durango, closer to home.” She rubbed her palms against the thighs of her jeans. “I—it’s not just to recover my memory that I see Dr. Brody.”

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