“I love to bake,” she finally confessed. “I’m a whiz at crossword puzzles. I’m scared of bugs. I like to draw, but I’m not very good at it. I hate television—I only watch the news or DVDs. I’m not very outdoorsy, but I do like to ski.”
Well, that was a start.
Sensing that she was warming up to this sharing thing, Derek decided to do some more digging. “Why did you quit nursing after you left California? You’re a natural at it.”
He noticed the pulse point in her throat jump, as if he’d broached a subject she wasn’t entirely comfortable with. “I had no choice,” she said after a beat. “My father was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and someone had to take care of him. My mother was gone and I don’t have any siblings, so my dad had nobody else.”
“So you gave up your career to take care of your father?” When she nodded, he whistled softly. “You must be very close to him, then.”
She slowly shook her head. “We weren’t close, at least not while I was growing up. My mother was...let’s just say controlling. And appearances were the only thing that mattered to her. She expected me to marry a wealthy man and spend my time sitting on committees and hosting dinner parties. When I told her I wanted to be a nurse, she pretty much disowned me. We weren’t even speaking when she died.”
Amelia swallowed. “I rarely saw my dad during those years. My mother made it clear that I wasn’t welcome, at least not until I stopped being so stubborn and lived the kind of life she wanted me to.”
Derek frowned. “And your father just sat by and let all this happen?”
“He let her call the shots,” she said sadly. “He knew I wanted more from my life, but he took my mother’s lead.” She gulped again. “I’d hoped Dad and I would get closer after she died, and we did—for a brief time. But the closeness only lasted a year or so. Then he was diagnosed, and now...” She let out a shaky breath. “Now he doesn’t even know who I am.”
As his heart constricted, Derek reached across the armrest and took her hand. She jerked in surprise, her gaze flying to his, but she didn’t pull her hand away.
Her skin was hot to the touch and so very smooth. Derek’s pulse quickened, a rush of desire flooding his body as Amelia gently rubbed her thumb over the center of his palm. Christ. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held a woman’s hand. Consoling overwrought patients didn’t count; he frequently offered comfort to the folks he treated. But this was different. This was...terrifying.
Struggling to steady the erratic thudding of his heart, he slowly brought his hand back to the steering wheel, avoiding Amelia’s eyes. “Shall we continue the tour?” he asked thickly.
“Actually, um, maybe we should head back.” From the corner of his eye, he saw her edging closer to the door, as if trying to put distance between them. “I really do need to get started fixing up my apartment.”
He ignored the disappointment that clenched his insides, knowing it was for the best if she left now. This strange attraction to Amelia Phillips unsettled him. He wasn’t looking to get involved with anyone—not now and not in the future. Besides, Amelia was his nurse. He signed her paychecks, for chrissake.
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” he said as he executed a U-turn and steered the car back in the direction of the main house. “Now that you’re sticking around in Eden Falls, you’ll need a cozy place to go home to.”
By the time they reached the ranch house, Amelia looked as relieved as Derek felt. She practically launched herself out of the passenger seat, then shot him a nervous smile. “I had a nice time, Derek. Please thank your family for a lovely dinner.”
“Will do,” he said gruffly. “Have a good night, Amelia. Drive safe.”
“Night, Derek.”
As he watched her hurry toward her car, he reached up to rub the five-o’clock shadow dotting his jaw and wondered why the hell this woman affected him so damn much.
* * *
Chloe’s heart raced as she drove away from the Double C. Rolling farmland and rustic houses flashed by the car window, but she couldn’t pay attention to the scenery, not when Derek’s baritone voice continued to run through her mind.
Who are you?
In that moment, she’d feared he’d figured out her secret—that she wasn’t Amelia Phillips, but Chloe Moreno, the woman who’d faked a suicide and fled to the other end of the country to escape her husband.
Funny enough, when she’d realized that Derek wasn’t interrogating her, but just trying to get to know her better, her panic only intensified. The more time she spent with Derek Colton, the more she liked him, but she knew she couldn’t let herself open up to him, no matter how badly she wanted to. Felix might believe she was dead, but it would take a long time for Chloe to feel safe again.
The clip-clop of horse hooves caught her attention and she slowed the car, stopping to let a horse and buggy cross. The bearded Amish man at the reins wore a dark-colored suit and a black hat with a wide brim. He nodded in thanks as their eyes met through the windshield, and Chloe managed a weak smile. Sometimes she envied the Amish citizens residing in the area. Their lives were so simple, revolving around hard work, humility and family. She’d give her right arm for that simplicity, for just one day without this deep ache in her bones.
Simple doesn’t mean safe.
The ominous reminder had her spirits sinking even lower. God, nothing and nobody were immune to danger and heartache. The missing Paradise Ridge girls were proof of that.
As the buggy disappeared down the darkness-bathed road, Chloe continued straight, driving into the heart of town. The downtown shops had closed for the night, but the glow of the lampposts lining the streets illuminated the windows and drew her gaze to the holiday decorations gracing the storefronts.
This would be her first Christmas in twelve years without Felix. The realization made her think back to the very start of their marriage, when she’d been young and foolish and completely in love with the older, distinguished doctor.
All her life she’d been nagged by her high-society mother to marry a successful man. She was taught to hold her tongue and look pretty, to aspire for nothing more than the security a husband could offer. Ironically, she’d thought she was defying her mother when she’d married Felix. She’d met him while working in the trauma unit at the hospital in L.A.; back then he’d been an up-and-coming plastic surgeon, immediately sucking her in with his dark good-looks and undeniable charm. He’d actually valued her opinion, encouraging her to speak her mind, challenging her with thought-provoking discussions, treating her like a worthy partner rather than the daughter of Martin and Lynn Hathaway, a pair of wealthy Midwest transplants to Beverly Hills.
She should’ve recognized Felix’s controlling nature when he convinced her to quit nursing and demanded she stay at home, but he’d seemed so eager to start a family with her. And she’d wanted the same thing—to be a mother to Felix’s children. She wanted it so badly she’d agreed to concentrate on their marriage and soon-to-be family rather than her career.
But now she was on the other side of the country, choking down the bitter taste in her mouth and parking her Toyota in the tiny parking lot at the rear of her two-story apartment building. She had to stop thinking about Felix and focus on the fresh start she’d been presented with.
Fishing her keys out of her purse, she locked the car and headed for the back entrance of the building. Her apartment was on the second floor, but the building didn’t have an elevator so she had to climb the rickety wooden stairs, which squeaked beneath her boots.
When she reached her apartment, the door swung open before she could even turn the key.
She winced. The latch on the door had been loose since she’d moved in, but she hadn’t gotten around to fixing it yet. Besides, after three weeks in Eden Falls, she’d discovered that hardly anyone locked their doors around here. The crime rate in town was zero—or at least it had been until those Amish girls had begun disappearing.
Entering her apartment
, Chloe made a mental note to get the doorknob fixed tomorrow. After the attempted kidnapping of Violet Chastain, she really needed to take better precautions.
Right, because a scarred, middle-aged woman is a mighty draw for a sex ring.
Fine, so the sick perverts snatching up those innocent girls probably wouldn’t take a second look at Chloe Moreno aka Amelia Phillips. But that didn’t mean she shouldn’t be more careful.
After she removed her outerwear and tossed her purse on the plaid-upholstered couch she’d purchased from the sole furniture store in town, she ducked into her small kitchen and brewed herself a cup of tea. She still had that bookshelf to assemble, but at the moment she wanted nothing more than to sit on the sofa, watch the ten o’clock news and clear her head.
Heading back to the living room, she set her tea on the square glass coffee table, then settled on the couch. She drew a flannel blanket around her legs and flicked the remote control.
The second the screen came to life, sound blared from the television speakers.
“I, Chloe, take you, Felix, to be my lawfully wedded husband.”
Horror slammed into Chloe’s chest with the force of a sledgehammer.
Her eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets as she stared at her younger self on the television screen. Clad in an elaborate lace gown with a scoop neckline and full skirt, twenty-nine-year-old Chloe gazed up at her dark-haired husband-to-be with pure adoration. A white-robed priest stood before the happy couple with a leather prayer book in his hands. In the background, the soft strains of violins could be heard.
Her wedding. Dear God, this was her wedding video.
The video she’d left behind when she fled Malibu.
“I, Felix Moreno, take you, Chloe, to be my...”
Chloe leaped off the couch as if she’d discovered a cockroach in her lap. But no, this was worse than a cockroach. Far more terrifying than her irrational fear of insects.
He was here.
Felix was here.
Panic torpedoed through her. Acid burned her throat, making it impossible to breathe. She sucked in shallow breaths, her body trembling so violently she keeled over, sagging against the arm of the couch for balance. Her wild gaze landed on the DVD player, which was whirring away, the seconds ticking off on the display.
She stood there frozen for several long seconds, then she burst into action, grabbing the first object she saw—a heavy glass paperweight sitting on the coffee table.
Swallowing her fear, Chloe crept toward the narrow hallway leading to her bedroom. As she approached the closed door, her heart thudded against her ribs and her lungs ached, prompting her to take a deep breath.
Call the cops, a little voice ordered.
She faltered in front of the bedroom. If her husband truly was behind that door, she had no chance of fighting him off. Felix was bigger than her, and his anger had always given him an inhuman amount of strength.
She had to call the police, then run out of the apartment and wait until the cops showed up to apprehend Felix.
But what if Felix wasn’t here? What if she called for help and then had to explain to the responding officer why a simple DVD posed such a monumental threat to her? She’d have to confess to the police who she really was, and the news would then find its way to Felix. She’d pretty much be announcing to her husband that she was still alive.
When her palms started tingling and black dots danced in front of her eyes, she realized she’d forgotten to breathe again. Sucking oxygen into her lungs, she straightened her shoulders and tightened her grip on the paperweight. She couldn’t risk calling the cops. Technically, no crime had even been committed—her door had been unlatched and nothing had been stolen as far as she knew.
Gathering her courage, she reached for the doorknob and turned it ever so slowly. Then she braced herself, half expecting Felix to burst out and grab her.
But nothing happened.
She pushed the door open, lifted the arm holding the paperweight and burst into the bedroom.
Empty.
The room was empty. And the closet door was wide-open, revealing more empty space because she still hadn’t gotten around to hanging any of her clothes.
Relief skyrocketed through her. Taking another breath, she ducked out of the room and repeated the same process with the little bathroom across the hall.
Empty.
Chloe’s shoulders relaxed, but tension continued to seize her muscles. Soft voices wafted through the apartment, followed by a burst of applause as the guests who’d attended her wedding cheered for the happy couple.
Feeling as if she’d just had the wind knocked out of her, Chloe trudged back to the living room and sank onto the couch. Her gaze fixed on the screen, on the broad smile gracing young Chloe’s eyes as she walked down the aisle arm-in-arm with her new husband.
Only two copies of that wedding video existed. One sat on the shelf of her father’s room at the nursing home in St. Louis, and she doubted Martin Hathaway even knew it was there and doubted even more that he’d suddenly regained his mental capacity, tracked her down to Eden Falls and left the video in her DVD player.
The other copy? Sitting in the entertainment system in the grand living room of her and Felix’s beachfront mansion.
“He found me,” she whispered, the agony-laced words echoing in the suddenly cold air of her apartment.
Chapter 3
“Amelia, I still need that file.” A pause. “Amelia?” Another pause. “Amelia.”
Chloe’s hand snapped up at the sharp command. She turned to see Derek in the doorway of the filing room, his brown eyes flickering with annoyance. “What?” she asked absently.
“Stu Robertson’s file,” Derek repeated, sounding aggravated. “He’ll be here any minute. He rescheduled his appointment, remember?”
“Oh, right, right. Sorry.”
She darted toward the cabinet that housed the N-R files and flipped through the tabs until she found Stu Robertson’s name. Her cheeks scorched with the heat of embarrassment as she handed Derek the folder.
Rather than leave the room, Derek tucked the file under one arm and eyed her warily. “Are you all right? You’ve been acting strange all morning.”
No, I’m not all right! My psychotic husband left our wedding video in my apartment last night and I’m freaking out!
She bit back the words, deciding she didn’t particularly feel like getting fired today. But she also didn’t blame Derek for looking irritated. She’d been distracted from the moment she opened her eyes this morning. Well, that was not entirely true, considering she’d never gone to sleep in the first place. She’d spent the night tossing and turning in bed, clutching the paperweight and trying to convince her panic-ridden brain that if Felix planned on murdering her, he would’ve done it when she walked through the door hours before.
But no amount of convincing could make her believe that anyone other than Felix had left that horrific surprise for her.
Her husband knew she was alive. There was no other explanation for what happened last night, and although she didn’t know why Felix hadn’t just confronted her outright, the sick souvenir didn’t really surprise her. Toying with people was Felix’s favorite pastime. The man was a psychopath hiding behind a white coat and a prestigious reputation, and she knew better than anyone just how much he liked playing games.
“Amelia?”
Damn it. She’d spaced out. Again.
“I’m so sorry, Derek,” she blurted, a streak of guilt soaring through her. “I’ve been a real pain in the ass today, haven’t I?”
“I wouldn’t put it quite that way, but...yeah.” He offered a sheepish grin. “What’s going on?”
“I didn’t sleep well last night,” she admitted. “I didn’t sleep at all, actually.”
He frowned, switching into doctor mode. “Are you prone to insomnia?”
“Not usually. It was just a fluke, I guess.” She smiled. “Maybe it was the excitement of being offered a permanen
t position here.”
He smiled back, and for the first time all morning she relaxed. Derek Colton’s bone-melting smiles always had that effect on her. “I don’t see how working for a small-town doctor could be very exciting, but thanks for the ego boost.”
“Dr. Colton?” came Nancy’s voice. “Stu Robertson is here.”
Derek glanced over his shoulder at his receptionist. “Put him in exam room two, Nancy.”
Chloe frowned. “Hey, that’s my job, remember?”
“No,” he corrected. “Right now, your job is to grab a cup of coffee and unwind for an hour or so. Maybe the caffeine will wake you up.”
Guilt prickled her skin. Wonderful. Her first day as a permanent fixture in the clinic, and she was being ordered to wake up.
Derek must have glimpsed the objection in her eyes because he chuckled. “I can handle Stu. He’s only here to get a prescription for his arthritis medication. Go, Amelia. Drink some coffee, breathe some fresh air and come back when you’re ready.”
He strolled off before she could argue.
Chloe stared after him in dismay, feeling even guiltier when she heard Derek greet Stu Robertson in that deep, congenial voice of his. The clinic’s appointment calendar was booked solid today, and instead of doing her job, she’d been so distracted that Derek had sent her away.
But she knew he’d made a good call. She’d be of no use to Derek or their patients if her brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders.
Ducking into the small office where she stored her things, Chloe grabbed her coat and purse, then exited the clinic through the back door. Derek was right—the second she breathed in the crisp December air, she felt more alert. In a brisk pace, she walked to the café at the end of the block and ordered a large coffee, then sat on one of the tall-backed stools in front of the window that overlooked the quaint street.
Clasping her hands over the cardboard sleeve of her coffee cup, Chloe attempted to formulate a plan. She’d already replaced her loose door handle this morning; she’d been out the door at eight o’clock and waiting outside the hardware store when the owner opened up shop for the day. She hadn’t been scheduled to work until nine, so she’d hurried home and installed the new handle, along with two shiny new dead bolts and a chain lock.