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He pocketed his phone and headed out of his office. He’d go check on Angelica and make sure he didn’t miss any little injuries, see if she had any memory returning. Jensen would help. He should’ve thought of that hours ago.
His phone buzzed in his pocket before he made it down the hallway. Jensen.
Sure thing. I’ll head over after dinner. Gorgeous blonde who wouldn’t take no for an answer, or I’d come right now.
Steffan chuckled. Jensen was his brother Ray’s closest friend, but all the family thought of him as family. Jensen and Steffan had gotten close working out together most mornings and collaborating on different cases from the E.R.
Jensen was the chief of their police at the young age of thirty and singularly impressive. The only case Steffan knew that he hadn’t solved was his mum’s murder, but even Ray, his brilliant military brother and Macey, his future sister-in-law and a computer genius from the famous Sutton Smith’s team, hadn’t made any headway on that one.
He sent a thumbs up, then walked down the main corridor to the staircase and up to the second floor. He was checking on a patient, nothing more. Why, then, was his heart racing quicker and quicker? It couldn’t have anything to do with climbing a set of stairs. He was in good shape and lifted weights and sparred every morning with Jensen and some of the other policemen and firefighters who lived in the city.
Heading down the hallway toward the patient rooms, he found himself counting door numbers to calm his mind. He knew every inch of the three-story hospital as well as his own mansion or the castle he’d grown up in. He thrived in large spaces. Not sure what that said about him, but if he wasn’t at the hospital, he was at his spacious house, the open gym, or hiking, mountain biking, or dirt biking the mountains.
A door opened. Right in front of him. Door 234. The door of his beautiful Jane Doe … Angelica, because the brown-eyed beauty was adverse to the name Jane.
She eased out into the hallway, clutching the hospital robe at the back to keep it from flapping open. Her feet were bare, with pink-painted toes. Legs revealed by the thin robe were tanned and lean, with a few nasty scratches and bumps on her shins from her ordeal.
Her gaze darted straight to him. She stopped abruptly, looking both annoyed at the interruption to her escape from her hospital room and intrigued by him. “Oh … it’s you. What’s up, doc?”
He laughed—she’d made her voice sound just like Bugs Bunny. He stopped right in front of her. Close. Maybe a little too close, but he got close to all his patients. She arched her head to meet his gaze. She was taller than he’d thought, maybe five-eight. The way she was clutching her robe so tight in the back revealed her shape. She was just as fit as he’d thought. Her hair was longer, dark and wet against her back. Her face was washed clean, and her smooth, dark-toned skin and big brown eyes were alluring. She must be fresh out of the shower.
That was not a thought he should dwell on right now.
“Just coming to check on my favorite patient.”
“Ah …” She winked at him. “I bet you say that to all your female patients who’ve literally lost their minds.”
“You know, I think it’s the first time I’ve said it to a beaut … beat-up female patient who’s lost her mind.” He luckily didn’t say a ‘beautiful female patient.’ Favorite had been bad enough. What was he thinking? He was the one who’d lost his mind.
“Ah, good catch there, doc.” She looked him over. “So I look ‘beaut … beat-up’?” She arched an imperious brow.
He really, really liked her. Dang. He rested a hand on the door frame above her head and found himself … leaning. “Yes, you do.” His voice was far too deep and husky.
She looked him over. “You’re pretty … ‘beat-up’ yourself.”
His heart was beating too fast again. How could he restore her memory and get her out of this hospital so he could get to know her better? It wasn’t as if anyone could reprimand him, but he had his own strict code of ethics.
Their gazes met and held. Steffan was amazed at the connection sizzling in the air between them and the intelligence and appeal in her deep-brown eyes.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, straightening away from the wall and dropping his hand. He needed to know how she was doing, what she was doing sneaking out into the hallway, and he needed to get himself under control. Once her memory was restored and she was no longer his patient, he could get to know her better.
Unless she skipped the country as soon as she could.
But that was a silly thing to worry about. Why had he even thought that? Augustine was insanely beautiful, but there weren’t as many hotels or rental homes as most other top tourist destinations, plus their border control was more intense than most European countries, so not as many tourists came through. She’d want to stay and explore. Of course she would. Unless she had a busy job or a family that needed her. What if … his gaze darted to her ring finger. Empty and no tan line.
Please don’t let her be married or involved with someone.
“I’m okay. Headache is still there, and I’m going to be bruised and achy tomorrow, I’m sure. Do you know where my clothes are?”
“I can check. Did the nurse take them away?”
“I guess so. She helped me into the shower and when I came out, only this dang gown was sitting there. I need my clothes and my Sorrels, and then …” She broke off and looked away.
“And then?”
Her gaze met his, and he wondered again why she didn’t look blank or vacant like most amnesiac patients he’d treated. Aliya hadn’t looked blank with her amnesia case, but she’d only lost one day due to a traumatic event. Angelica couldn’t remember her own name.
She studied him as if trying to determine how trustworthy he was. There was obviously a reason she was sneaking into the hallway.
