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"In battle?"
"In bed."
The fork froze halfway to his mouth. He skewered Lola with a gaze beneath half-lidded eyes, and a pink color flared in her cheeks as she concentrated on her key lime pie. Did her rescue plan include seducing him?
He didn't need any help in that department. None at all.
LOLA TOSSED HER PURSE on the table in the foyer as Jack punched in the security code for the front door to lock it behind them. Then she slipped off her high heels and padded on bare feet into the kitchen. "Do you want some water? That pie was good but it made me thirsty."
"The wine made me thirsty. I'm not sure we needed a whole bottle of the stuff."
Yanking open the fridge door, she called over her shoulder. "That was part of my plan--weaken your inhibitions to jog your memory, and then we had the good luck to run into Lars."
Jack wedged a shoulder on the arch framing the kitchen. "You're putting too much faith in Lars. He didn't give us...me much."
"Stanford and the Green Berets." She repeated it like a magical mantra, as if those two entities held the key to Jack's identity.
She'd been interested in those two facets of Jack's life, but the comment that had jumped out at her was Lars's belief in Jack's eternal bachelorhood. She'd grasped that one as if it were a lifeline.
She filled two glasses with water from the gallon container in the refrigerator. As she handed one to Jack, she said, "Thanks for dinner."
"It's your million."
She punched him in the shoulder, her fist meeting solid muscle. "Stop with that."
"I must be very good at what I do to command that figure, and you must be very rich to pay it."
"Emilio said you were the best. Unfortunately, he didn't tell me much more about you, or I could be a lot more help."
He sat down on the arm of the couch. "You avoided the second part of my comment."
"I am rich, Jack. Both Gabe and I inherited millions. But the money's tainted."
"So give it away."
"Believe me, I do, but Gabe is less scrupulous than I am. He figures at least some of the money came from Dad's legitimate business deals, so we may as well spend that portion."
"I agree with Gabe, and as long as you're using it for some good deeds, it evens out in the end."
She shrugged and pointed to the laptop. "Do you think we should do some research tonight? We could at least search some public Army records."
"Let's give it a rest." Jack rubbed the back of his neck. "We're not going to find my Army records on the internet. No way. And as far as Stanford? To get those records, I'm going to have to supply them with a Social Security number or at least a birthday. Neither of which I have, not for Jack Coburn, anyway."
His words popped her bubble. Not that she'd expected to find Jack's life online, but she'd hoped Lars's revelations would lead to something. Maybe Jack didn't want to return to his life. Maybe he wanted this life.
"Come here." Jack had placed his glass on a magazine, part of the mail Rosa had brought over from her house.
He opened his arms wide and she went to him. Stepping between his legs, she fell against his chest. He wrapped one arm around her waist and stroked her back with his other hand. She nestled her head in the hollow of his shoulder and released a pent-up breath.
She should be comforting him. Why did it always turn out the other way around?
He dragged his lips across her hair and pressed a kiss against her temple. "I think my best bet is with Lesley and the truth serum. The memories are there, just within my grasp. I need a little push over the edge."
She shivered and he hugged her tighter. "What's wrong?"
"A push over the edge. That's what started your whole nightmare, isn't it? You fell or were pushed over the edge of a cliff."
"Or I jumped."
She jerked her head up, clipping his chin. "Why do you say that?"
"I don't know." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't want to think anymore tonight."
He traced a finger along her jaw, his dark eyes burning with a different kind of need. Her lips parted in a silent invitation, and he sealed his mouth over hers.
His kiss stole her breath away, and she sagged against him. Not the marrying kind. Not the marrying kind. He couldn't have a wife in real life. He wouldn't be able to kiss her like this if he had someone else. Bits and pieces of memories had returned to him, but not once had they contained any hint of a woman.
