Enticed by His Forgotten Lover(5)

By: Maya Banks


“Are you saying that we slept together and that I am the father of your baby?” he demanded.

She stared wordlessly at him, hurt still crowding viciously into her chest. “Are you trying to say we didn’t? That I imagined the weeks we spent together? Do you deny that you left me without a word and never looked back?”

Sarcasm crept into her voice but there was also deep pain that she wished wasn’t so evident. It was enough that he’d betrayed her. She didn’t want to be humiliated further.

He flinched and closed his eyes. Then he took a step back and for a moment she thought he was finally going to do as she’d demanded and leave.

“I don’t remember you,” he said hoarsely. “I don’t remember any of it. You. Us. That.” He gestured toward her belly.

He trailed off and something about the bewilderment in his voice made her stop in her tracks. She crossed her arms protectively over her chest and swallowed.

“You don’t remember.”

He ran a hand through his hair and swore under his breath. “I had an…accident. Several months ago. I don’t remember you. If what you’re saying is true, we met during the period where my memory is a complete blank.”





Two

Rafael watched as all the color leeched from her face and she swayed unsteadily. With a curse, he reached to grasp her arms. This time she didn’t fight him. She was limp in his hands and he felt the slight tremble beneath his fingers.

“Come, sit down, before you fall,” he said grimly.

He led her to the bed and she sat, her hands going to the edge to brace herself.

She glanced up at him, her eyes haunted. “You expect me to believe you have amnesia? Is that the best you could come up with?”

He winced because he felt much the same about the idea of amnesia. If all she’d said was true and their positions were reversed, he’d laugh her out of the room.

“I don’t ask this to make you angry, but what is your name? I feel at quite a disadvantage here.”

She sighed and rubbed a hand wearily through her thick hair. “You’re serious about this.”

He made a sound of impatience and she pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers.

“My name is Bryony Morgan,” she said quietly.

She bowed her head and black curls fell forward, hiding her profile. Unable to resist, he ran his finger over her cheek and then pushed the hair back behind her ear.

“Well, Bryony, it would seem you and I have a lot to discuss. I have many, many questions as you can well imagine.”

She turned her head to stare up at him. “Amnesia. You’re seriously going to stick to this insane story?”

He tried to remember how skeptical he’d be in her shoes, but her outright disbelief was ticking him off. He wasn’t used to having his word questioned by anyone.

“Do you think I like being punched in the face at a public gathering by a woman claiming to be pregnant with my child when to my knowledge it’s the first time we’ve met? Put yourself in my shoes for a moment. If a man you’d never seen before or had no memory of walked up to you and said the things to you that you’re saying to me, don’t you think you’d be a little suspicious? Hell, you’d probably have already called the cops you keep threatening me with.”

“This is crazy,” she muttered.

“Look, I can prove what happened to me. I can show you my medical records and the doctor’s diagnosis. I don’t remember you, Bryony. I’m sorry if that hurts you, but it’s a fact. I have only your word that we were ever anything to each other.”

Her lips twisted. “Yeah, we can’t forget I’m not your type.”

He winced. Trust her to remember that remark.

“I’d like for you to tell me everything. Start from the beginning. Tell me when and where we met. Maybe something you say will jog my memory.”

A knock sounded at the door and he scowled. “Are you expecting someone at this hour?” he asked when she rose to answer it.

“Room service. I’m starving. I haven’t eaten all day.”

“That can’t be good for the baby.”

She didn’t look as though she appreciated the remark. Gathering her robe tighter around her, she went to the door and a few seconds later, a room service attendant wheeled in a cart bearing covered plates. She signed the bill and offered a halfhearted smile of thanks to the man.

When Rafael and Bryony were alone again she pushed the cart the rest of the way to the bed. “Sorry. Obviously I wasn’t counting on company. I only ordered enough food for one.”

He lifted a brow as she began uncovering the dishes. There was enough food to feed a small convention.

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