Identity Crisis. Laura ScottЧитать онлайн книгу.
knew her, at least enough to offer a ride in the middle of the night. But enough to protect her from harm? That she wasn’t sure of. How could she have tried to flirt with him?
She risked a glance at him from beneath her lashes. There was no denying Gage was a very attractive man. Obviously, her sister was a very lucky woman. Her gaze clung to his hand, so strong, so capable on the steering wheel. His arms were firmly muscled and tan as if he spent a lot of time in the sun. She clenched her hands in her lap to keep from reaching out to touch him.
Gage and Alyssa were close, but where was Alyssa now? She found it odd how he didn’t seem to have a clue where to find her. How often did a guy lose his girlfriend? Maybe he wasn’t being entirely truthful. Maybe her sister’s relationship with this man was on the rocks. Mallory swallowed hard. Harboring a secret attraction for her sister’s boyfriend made her a horrible sister. She had to stop thinking about him, right now. So what if Gage exuded a confident strength she was drawn to? A strength she longed to lean upon?
Gage wasn’t anything to her. She didn’t even remember him. Rocky relationship or not, he belonged to Alyssa. Besides, he couldn’t have made his feelings toward her more clear.
Forget about him. Even if Gage didn’t know where her sister was, his feelings were obviously tangled into knots over it. And since she was dependent on him, she decided it was time to make amends. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For whatever I did to put a wedge between you and Alyssa.”
He was quiet for a long moment. “There is no wedge between me and Alyssa. And Mallory doesn’t apologize. Ever.”
She didn’t need her memory to know she couldn’t win this one. She threw her hand up then lightly tapped the side of her temple. “Silly me, I forgot.” Sarcasm dripped from her words. “Consider my apology rescinded.”
A few minutes later, Gage pulled up in front of a fancy-looking building in the heart of the city. She tensed and stared. Was this some sort of test? Did she really live here?
“Where are we?” She hated having to ask.
“Your place. Do you have your keys?” Gage asked, pausing in the act of opening his door.
“No. I meant what city?”
“Milwaukee, Wisconsin.” He held out his hand patiently. “I need your keys.”
Milwaukee didn’t sound dangerous, but the sense of urgency wouldn’t leave her alone. Mallory pulled open her large, gaudy purse and searched for the keys. She’d already gone through her wallet and found the pitiful amount of cash and her driver’s license. There was also a package of tissues, a glittery hair clip, enough cosmetics to stock several counters at the department store and a hairbrush. No cell phone, which she thought odd. Why wouldn’t she have a cell phone? Finally, her fingers closed around a ring of keys. Feeling relieved, she pulled them out and dangled them in front of him.
Gage grabbed them and jumped out of the truck. She slid out of the passenger side, favoring her ankle as she landed on the sidewalk. She followed him, moving at a much slower pace. The back of her neck tingled when she watched him use her key to gain access to the secured building. He held the door open for her, and Mallory felt admiration for his polite gestures. But before she crossed the threshold, she couldn’t resist a furtive glance over her shoulder. No one lurked behind them. At least not that she could see.
But she kept wondering if someone was out there. Following her. Watching her.
Trying to control a flash of anxiety, she turned her attention to the building where she lived. The place was fancy, all chrome and glass with a decor that reeked of money. Had she designed the color scheme for this building? She guessed the condos inside were not of the traditional postage-stamp variety.
Gage waited, one strong arm holding open the elevator door for her. The elevator was surrounded by glass windows, providing a breathtaking view of the city lights. Yet she couldn’t help feeling exposed, knowing that anyone outside could easily see them standing inside.
She tried to ignore the increasing paranoia. Was that a common reaction for people who had amnesia? Maybe.
When Gage reached over and pushed the button for the fifteenth floor, she was hit by a sense of familiarity. As if she’d done the same thing herself.
Her head ached with the strain of trying to remember. The sense of urgency grew stronger, and she tapped her foot as the elevator slid upward. The flashes of familiarity were encouraging. Maybe her memory would return after she’d gotten into more familiar surroundings. When the elevator doors opened on the fifteenth floor, she eagerly stepped out.
Oddly enough, there was only one door. Did she live in some sort of penthouse? Silently he used her key to gain access. Warily she stepped inside. The condo was huge, decorated with red furniture, black and red kitchen cabinets and white walls. Large windows lined one entire wall, giving her a breathtaking view of Lake Michigan.
“Wow.” Drawn by the cool, calm water, where the sun was just beginning to creep up the horizon, she hobbled to the window. The lake was a balm to her frayed nerves. “I have spectacular taste,” she murmured, impressed with the view.
Gage grunted, hovering in the entrance, as if uncomfortable in her private space. “You obviously like a lot of bold colors.”
Bold colors were an understatement. She wasn’t about to admit that the deep red, blue and black interior had almost made her wrinkle her nose in distaste. She must have liked the furnishings at some point in time. She swept a gaze over the room, noting a short hallway off to the left where she assumed her bedroom and bathroom were located.
“Have anything to drink around here?” Gage asked.
She glanced at him, raising a brow. “How would I know? I’ll have to look.”
When she limped in the direction of her kitchen, he frowned and glanced at her swollen ankle as if he could tell the pain was getting worse with each step. “Stay put, you should rest that ankle. I’ll do it.” He walked toward the fridge and opened the door. She paused, nearly shedding her jacket but then swiftly reconsidering, remembering the midriff-baring T-shirt. Better to stay covered up.
Feeling awkward in her own surroundings, she watched as Gage rummaged around and finally withdrew a jug of orange juice.
“Want some?” He held the container and two glasses. The expression on his face was carefully polite. His cinnamon-colored eyes looked directly into hers.
She dragged her gaze away with an effort. “Sure. I need to take the anti-inflammatory that the doctor prescribed.” She pulled the pill bottle out of her purse. “He assured me it’s only a sprain, but my ankle really hurts.”
The inane conversation didn’t bring the normalcy she desired. She was home, but something was wrong, she could feel it in her bones. There was nothing homey about this condo. Frankly, she couldn’t imagine living there.
He poured her a glass of juice and she stepped closer, wary of invading his space. Silly, considering they were in her condo. She tossed the pills back and quickly took a sip of juice. The cool liquid soothed her parched throat.
“Anything look familiar?” Gage cocked an eyebrow over the rim of his glass.
“No.” She downed the rest of the juice in a big gulp then set the glass down with a thud. The condo should be a safe haven, but a strong sense of disquiet kept her off balance. She fingered the bloodstains on her jeans and then wrapped her arms around her body, warding off a chill.
What would Gage say if she wrapped her arms around his lean waist, asking him to hold her? He was a stranger, but so far he was the only person who made her feel safe. The condo wasn’t much better than the hospital. Would she ever feel safe again? She glanced at Gage, noted the restlessness in his eyes. She didn’t want him to leave, yet he just as clearly didn’t want to stick around.
For a moment panic surged