Her Forgotten Husband (Harlequin Treasury 1990's) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Excerpt

  Dear Reader

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Books by Anne Ha

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  Copyright

  “Garrick, exactly how long have I been pregnant?”

  “About twelve weeks,” he admitted.

  Samantha shook her head slowly. “You married me because I was pregnant, didn’t you?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Then why?”

  “I married you,” he said, “because I thought we had a good chance of being happy together.” They did. Ten years of friendship was the strongest basis for marriage he could imagine.

  “And because you got me pregnant,” Samantha said.

  “Your pregnancy did have something to do with it,” he admitted.

  She looked disappointed. “You don’t love me?”

  If only she knew what she was saying! But he couldn’t tell her the truth. Even amnesia wasn’t enough to erase the last ten years.

  Dear Reader,

  The month of June makes me think of June brides, Father’s Day and the first bloom of summer love. And Silhouette Romance is celebrating the start of summer with six wonderful books about love and romance.

  Our BUNDLE OF JOY this month is delivered by Stella Bagwell’s The Tycoon’s Tots—her thirtieth Silhouette book. As her TWINS ON THE DOORSTEP miniseries continues, we finally discover who gets to keep those adorable babies…and find romance in the bargain.

  Elizabeth August is back with her much-loved SMYTHESHIRE, MASSACHUSETTS series. In The Determined Virgin you’ll meet a woman whose marriage of convenience is proving to be very inconvenient, thanks to her intense attraction to her “in-name-only” husband.

  BACHELOR GULCH is a little town that needs women, and the name of Sandra Steffen’s brand-new miniseries. The fun begins in Luke’s Would-Be Bride as a local bachelor falls for his feisty receptionist—the one woman in town not looking for a husband!

  And there are plenty more compelling romances for you this month: A lovely lady rancher can’t wait to hightail it out of Texas—till she meets her handsome new foreman in Leanna Wilson’s Lone Star Rancher. A new husband can’t bear to tell his amnesiac bride that the baby she’s carrying isn’t his, in Her Forgotten Husband by Anne Ha. And one lucky cowboy discovers a night of passion has just made him a daddy in Teresa Southwick’s The Bachelor’s Baby.

  I hope you enjoy all of June’s books!

  Melissa Senate,

  Senior Editor

  Silhouette Romance

  Please address questions and book requests to:

  Silhouette Reader Service

  U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

  Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

  Her Forgotten Husband

  Anne Ha

  For Ben and Patti, with lots of groovy love.

  Many thanks to Monica Caltabiano for her fabulous

  critiquing, to Rachel Jones for strategically timed

  brainstorming and to Donna Jean for those lifesaving

  ice-cream breaks.

  Books by Anne Ha

  Silhouette Romance

  Husband Next Door #1208

  Her Forgotten Husband #1232

  ANNE HA

  is the pen name of Anne and Joe Thoron, a husbandand-wife writing team. College sweethearts, they live in Oregon with two naughty cats and a vegetable garden. They love to travel and meet all different kinds of people. Their first book, Husband Next Door, was a finalist for the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart Award.

  Chapter One

  He seemed quite sane.

  The handsome man seated by her bed—the man cradling her hand in his and murmuring endearments—did not appear demented, deranged or otherwise unbalanced.

  But she’d never seen him before in her life.

  He was a total stranger.

  A moment ago she’d awakened, blinking in the bright hospital lights, to his inexplicable presence. She hated to spoil his pleasure, his obvious relief, but she couldn’t go on acting as if she knew him.

  Gently she pulled her hand from his grasp and edged a few inches away.

  “Sweetheart?” The man’s voice was deep and husky. A few days’ beard growth shadowed his jaw, giving him a sensual, tousled look which grew more pronounced as he raked his fingers through his dark brown hair. “You’re not still angry?”

  Angry? Now there was a question that didn’t make sense! She had no reason to be angry. The only thing bothering her was the pounding ache in her head. It grew worse with every passing second.

  Raising a hand to massage her temple, she drew back when her fingers encountered soft gauze. A bandage! Amazed, she gingerly traced the gauze, wincing at a shaft of pain.

  “You all right?” the stranger asked.

  “My head hurts,” she said, and shut her eyes. The darkness brought relief, wrapping her in its safe cocoon.

  “I’m sure it does, after the wallop you gave it. You’ve had a concussion, you know.”

  She frowned, eyes still closed. “I have?”

  “Two days ago. Your car went off that nasty curve on Humphrey Boulevard. It hit a tree, but you were lucky—just suffered the concussion and a few cuts and bruises.”

  She couldn’t bring herself to reply. It was easier to lie still between the starched white hospital sheets, to let the blankness ease the pain.

  Briefly the stranger touched her shoulder, his fingers warming her skin. It felt nice, she thought, a bit guiltily. She heard him move, knew he stood over the bed. Heat emanated from his body, and she breathed in the spicy male scent of him. It wasn’t at all familiar, but it was oddly compelling.

  “I’ll tell the doctor you’re awake,” he said.

  But he didn’t leave, and she had the feeling he watched her intently.

  After a moment he kissed her forehead, the contact light and fleeting. “I’m glad you’re all right, Sam. If I’d lost you…”

  She opened her eyes, caught by one word. “Sam?”

  He straightened, giving her a tired smile. “Sorry. I meant to say Samantha. I’ll get used to it someday.”

  “Samantha,” she echoed. Confusion and anxiety rose inside her. Who in the world was Samantha?

  Not her, surely. She didn’t feel like a Samantha. She felt like a…like a…

  Nothing came to mind. No name seemed to fit.

  Meeting the stranger’s expectant gaze, she struggled not to show her distress. She opened her mouth, but couldn’t speak. She felt lost, adrift.

  Closing her eyes again, she tried to make sense of her situation. She knew she lay in a hospital room, could recognize its antiseptic smells. She knew the prickling discomfort in her left arm was caused by an IV needle, that the humming sound came from fluorescent lights.

  But that was where it stopped. She didn’t know who she was. Or where she lived or how old she was or what kind of car she drove.

  Oh, good Lord, she thought. She didn’t even know if she had any family or what she did for a living…

  The man cleared his throat, interrupting her panic attack. “By the way,” he said, his voice soft. “The baby is fine.”

  At first she thought she hadn’t heard him
correctly. She swallowed and stared up at him, unable to keep the bewilderment from her face. “The, uh, baby?”

  Could she be a mother? It didn’t seem possible. She had absolutely no recollection of changing diapers or of getting up for nighttime feedings. No recollection of childbirth.

  “Yes,” the stranger answered. “The doctor said the accident had no ill effects.”

  She grimaced, still not sure she had a baby. But maybe she would remember him—or was it her?— and would feel overjoyed it hadn’t been hurt. In the meantime all she could do was smile and try to think of something to say.

  “Thank goodness for car seats!” she managed.

  The man didn’t smile back. In fact, he looked decidedly concerned. His brows lowered and his slate gray eyes narrowed.

  Darn it. Obviously she hadn’t been maternal enough. She tried again. “Thanks for the reassurance. I feel so much better knowing my baby is okay. I’m really looking forward to holding…it…in my arms again.”

  His frown deepened. “Samantha…”

  What did he want from her? So what if she couldn’t remember the gender of her child? A few seconds ago she hadn’t even known she had a baby, and now he was trying to hold her to some unreachable maternal ideal.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she snapped.

  He sat back down on the chair, holding her hand while he studied her face. She felt as if he were trying to gaze into her soul. And he didn’t seem pleased by what he saw.

  “Samantha,” he said, “there’s something you should know.” He paused, appearing to choose his words with care. “The baby wasn’t in a car seat.”

  “What?” she blurted. He was lying. He had to be. She couldn’t have been so irresponsible! “Look, mister, I don’t know what bee flew into your bonnet today, but I do not appreciate your accusations of neglect. Of course I put my child in a car seat!”

  He shook his head slowly, those watchful gray eyes still on her.

  “And before you make any more snide comments on my parenting,” she added, “go out and try it yourself. It’s not as easy as it looks.”

  In response to her bravado, an annoying grin tugged at the corners of his mouth—his very attractive, sensuous mouth.

  She scowled, unable to see what he found so amusing.

  “Samantha,” he said, “the baby wasn’t in a car seat because it hasn’t been born yet.”

  She was so relieved she hadn’t been a neglectful mother that the full import of his words didn’t immediately sink in.

  When it did, she glanced down at her stomach, then slowly reached out to feel it. Through the sheet, she cupped her hand around the slight curve of her abdomen. Was that a baby? Or just her body’s normal shape? She had no way of knowing.

  “I’m pregnant?” she asked. She didn’t feel particularly pregnant.

  He nodded.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Very.”

  Her gaze returned to her belly. He sounded adamant. Too adamant not to be right.

  She felt a sudden wave of tenderness, thinking a new life grew within her. She was fiercely glad her baby hadn’t been harmed in the crash. “I haven’t been this way for long, have I?”

  “No, not that long.”

  She couldn’t take her eyes off her stomach. A baby! How wonderful and strange.

  Then an awkward thought occurred to her. She didn’t know how to ask at first, but then realized she didn’t need to ask at all. Instead, she looked down at the fingers of her left hand. Yes, she wore a wedding ring.

  The stranger followed her gaze. “I slipped it back on this morning,” he said, as if it was a confession.

  She peered at the simple gold band. “I’m married.” Her voice was full of wonder.

  Still holding her other hand, he gave it a squeeze. “It certainly appears that way.”

  The band was delicate and nicely proportioned, she noted, but it wasn’t in any way familiar. It didn’t spark any memories. “I’m married,” she said again.

  “Yes.”

  She sighed. “That’s a relief. I don’t think I’d like to be a single mother…. You wouldn’t, er, happen to know who my husband is, would you?”

  “As a matter of fact, I would.”

  “Who is it?”

  His expression turned wry. He raised her fingers to his mouth, kissed them with warm, gentle lips and said, “Me.”

  She snatched her hand from his grasp. “You?”

  The man nodded. “Yes, me.”

  She stared at him, not wanting to believe she could be married to a man she didn’t even recognize. “That’s—that’s crazy. I didn’t marry you. You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

  He shook his head. “It’s definitely time to get the doctor.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll be right back,” he told her, and left.

  She blew out a stream of air. “I would never,” she said to the empty room, “marry such an impossible man.”

  True, he was attractive. Extremely attractive. His body was long and lean, and his sculpted features made him look like a Greek god. Maybe she’d been carried away on a tide of desire.

  No, no, she couldn’t be married to him. She couldn’t have kissed a man like him, have lain in his arms, and not remembered it. Somehow she knew the power of his lovemaking would sear into her soul. She’d have remembered it.

  The power of his lovemaking…

  Good grief! She’d only known the man ten minutes, and already she was mentally having her way with him. It wasn’t like her to fantasize about strangers. She’d always reserved her fantasies for…for…

  The wisp of memory, if that was what it was, slipped from her grasp like a ribbon of smoke. She closed her eyes as her headache intensified.

  What was the name? She’d been about to think of a man’s name.

  But it didn’t come, and the more she struggled to retrieve it, the more her head pounded.

  Anyway, she told herself, what was the point of remembering some guy’s name, when she didn’t even know her own?

  The stranger, of course, had called her Samantha. Could that really be right? She said it out loud a few times, trying to accustom herself. It sounded foreign to her own ears, as did her voice.

  She started when the door to her room swung open. The stranger walked back in, accompanied by two women. She wasn’t ready for them yet, she thought. She wanted more time to orient herself, to get control of the situation.

  One of the women, dressed in a doctor’s coat, approached her. She studied the machines above the bed, then held up a light and briefly shone it into each of her eyes. “I’m Dr. Hernandez,” she said in a friendly, soothing tone. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine. Except for this awful headache.”

  Dr. Hernandez nodded. The other woman, who appeared to be a nurse, handed her a chart on a clipboard. The doctor made a few notations. “That’s normal in a case such as this. Can you tell me your name?”

  She debated for a moment. Technically the answer was no. But if she gave them the name the man had called her, maybe they’d leave her alone. “Samantha,” she said brightly.

  The others exchanged glances.

  “Samantha what?” Dr. Hernandez asked.

  She stared meditatively up at the ceiling. “Samantha… er…Bergman?”

  Silence.

  “Samantha Bogart?”

  Silence.

  “Hepburn? Tracy?” She wasn’t getting anywhere. And the man looked amused again. She glared at him. “All right, so I don’t know my last name. So what does that prove?”

  The doctor patted her arm and continued the examination. “It appears you’ve suffered some memory loss. Do you know what city you’re in?”

  She searched her mind for the name of a city. “Um, New York?”

  Dr. Hernandez shook her head. “Sorry. You’re in Portland, Oregon. According to your husband, you’ve lived h
ere all your life.” She glanced at the man beside her. “Garrick tells me you don’t believe you’re married to him.”

  “I’m not.” It sounded petulant, but she didn’t care. She felt exposed and vulnerable, as if she were the butt of a joke that everyone got but her. She narrowed her eyes on her so-called husband. “Garrick?” she said. “Is that your name?”

  He nodded.

  “But I’ve never heard it before in my life. First name or last?”

  “First. It’s Garrick Randall.”

  The doctor patted her arm again. “I know this must be a confusing time for you, but he is your husband. The hospital verified it. Now, I expect to release you into his care tomorrow, after we run a few more tests. As long as you’re recovering well from the blow to your head, and it hasn’t hurt your pregnancy, there’s no reason to keep you here.”

  “But what about my memory? Shouldn’t I stay until I get it back?” She felt intense trepidation at the idea of leaving the hospital, leaving the only world she’d known so far. Especially if she had to leave with a man she couldn’t remember.

  Dr. Hernandez pursed her lips. “Unfortunately, Samantha, there’s nothing we can do about your memory. It may return in a few hours or a few days, or it may drift slowly back over a period of months.” She smiled gently. “I’ll have a counselor speak with you about it first thing tomorrow.”

  A few minutes later the doctor left with Garrick. The nurse removed the IV, smoothed the covers and turned off the overhead lights before following them.

  Then she was alone. It wasn’t as much of a relief as she’d thought it would be. In the light from the single fixture by the bed, the room seemed unbearably stark. There was one small window, but it revealed only darkness and a few distant street lamps. She wondered how many hours she would have to endure before morning.