HE MAY HAVE QUESTIONS ABOUT HIS PAST, BUT NOT HOW HE FEELS ABOUT HERâ¦
Reeling after being left at the altar, Paige Graham seeks comfort in her secluded cabin. But thereâs someone sleeping in her bedâa sharp-eyed, sexy stranger who claims to have no memory. While a little digging reveals Johnâs true identity, Paige knows thereâs more to his pastâ¦and more to her feelings.
He may have been told who he is, but bodyguard John Cinca isnât satisfied with the answers, especially when they place Paige in danger. With his protective instinct in high gear, John vows to uncover his true identity while keeping her safe. But what if recovering his memory means he is the one Paige should be afraid of?
Who was he, and what was he doing in her cabin?
Now that sheâd seen his face, she wasnât as frightened of him, and why was that? There wasnât one cuddly thing about him. She should be running for her life.
Instead, cleaver still in hand, she sat down on a chair opposite him. âYou think you fell down a waterfall?â she asked.
âI donât know for sure,â he said, touching his lip and wincing.
âYou must know something,â she insisted.
He raised his gaze to hers. âI wish I did, lady, but Iâm afraid that what you see is what you get.â
This book is dedicated to my best friend, my lover and my partnerâmy husband, Arnold Sharpe.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alice Sharpe met her husband-to-be on a cold, foggy beach in Northern California. One year later they were married. Their union has survived the rearing of two children, a handful of earthquakes registering over 6.5, numerous cats and a few special dogs, the latest of which is a yellow Lab named Annie Rose. Alice and her husband now live in a small rural town in Oregon, where she devotes the majority of her time to pursuing her second love, writing.
Alice loves to hear from readers. You can write her c/o Harlequin Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279. SASE for reply is appreciated.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
John CincaâHe awakens after apparently falling down a waterfall. Heâs lost his wallet and his memory. Now heâs wanted by both the police and a terrifying killer. If heâs going to save his life and that of the woman who risks everything to help him, he needs to find out what happened.
Paige GrahamâLeft at the altar, she does what any brokenhearted gal would doâshe goes on her honeymoon by herself where she can count on the fresh Montana mountain air to rejuvenate her spirit. If she can survive the man she finds in her bed.
Jack PollockâHeâs a retired ex-policeman who refuses to even own a gun. That may have been a bad decision on his part.
Anatola KorenevâBig, mean and single-minded, exactly who is this guy and why is he so determined to kill John?
Katy GrahamâPaigeâs little sisterâs stubborn streak is going to exact a heavy price.
Brian WitherspoonâThe man Paige was supposed to marry, he changed his mind at the last moment. However, not everybody knows the wedding didnât take placeâsome think Paige is his wife, and that means heâs in the wayâ¦.
Natalie DexterâClues suggest she is important to John. How important is the question.
Chuck MinerâItâs generally accepted his coma is due to a beating delivered at the hands of John Cinca. If he can wake up in time, he might be able to reveal the truth.
MattâA bodybuilder gifted with a streak of nice, heâs the one Katy counts on for help. But whoâs going to help him?
IrinaâShe knew John many years. What she remembers of his past helps him to not only regain his future, but also catch a glimpse of the man who wants him dead.
Carol Ann OatesâThis older woman may hold the key to Johnâs lost memories, and thatâs why itâs imperative he speak with her before itâs too late.
Chapter One
Something was wrong.
He must have fallen asleep in a strange position.
He opened his eyes slowly, concentrating for a moment. Rocks, from the size of a pea to a manâs fist. Ragged and round, all colors, russet and ivory and gray. A confetti of rocksâ¦
And the nearby thunder of falling water.
But there was something else.
Nausea washed through him as he raised his head, but he kept pushing until heâd dragged himself into a sitting position, wincing as the torn flesh on his hands grated against the rocks. His vision wasnât so good. He gingerly patted his face, felt the puffy skin around his left eye and the tear across his chin. His fingertips came away stained with bright red blood.
He was dressed in a suit, but he was sitting on a rocky beach. The swollen waters of a river washed over his loafer-clad feet, but he was so numb he couldnât feel it. He pulled his legs clear of the water with the same sluggish sense of unreality with which he took in his surroundings.