Ryan grimaced again. “Don’t mention the words puberty and sex in the same sentence with my baby girl.”
Mitch rummaged through the kitchen cupboards, searching for God only knew what. “Where are Kathy and Roger?” Ryan asked, watching him.
“We sent them off to get breakfast. Mom’s been a little…stressed…since the crash yesterday. Too hard for her to deal with. I don’t know that she’s ever gonna get on a plane again. She may just be stuck here for good.”
“God help us,” Ryan muttered. He loved his in-laws, and he appreciated that they flew down from Seattle whenever he needed help with Julia, but a man had limits.
Mitch found a box of Froot Loops in the pantry. “Hot damn!” He leaned back against the counter and fished out a handful of cereal. “I haven’t had this stuff since I was a kid.”
Ryan glanced at the box. “That’s probably from when you were a kid. I don’t remember buying that.”
“All those preservatives? It can’t go bad.” He propped himself up on the counter.
Sinking into a chair at the kitchen table while Mitch munched on stale cereal, Ryan massaged his aching forehead. A tension headache was settling right behind his eyes—the result of no sleep, too much traveling and stress on top of it.
“You look like shit, you know,” Mitch muttered.
“Tell me something I don’t already know.” He hadn’t shaved, he was still in the same clothes he’d worn yesterday, and he felt like he’d been on an emotional roller coaster the last few hours.
“Monique must have worked you over pretty good.”
“About took my head off when I told her I was leaving so soon.”
“I like her. You get tired of her, you pass her on to me.”
Ryan chuckled. “She wouldn’t go for you. She’s not into the outdoorsy type.”
Mitch glanced down at the worn jeans and dirty hiking boots he was wearing. “Are you saying I’m not classy?”
Ryan looked at his brother-in-law. Mitch needed a haircut, his light, brown curly hair was brushing his collar, and the goatee he was experimenting with looked downright pathetic. “I’m saying you don’t have enough class in your left pinky for her.”
“And you do?”
“No, I don’t. But she hasn’t figured that out yet.” He pressed his fingers against his temples. “She’s just using me for sex. One of these days, she’ll figure out I’m a son of a bitch and she’ll drop me on my ass.”
Mitch laughed. “Can’t argue with you there.”
Rising, Ryan stifled a yawn. “You gonna stick around?”
“Yeah, for awhile. At least until Mom and Dad get back.”
“Good. I’m gonna crash.” He patted Mitch on the shoulder as he walked by. “Thanks, buddy.”
“Sure thing.”
Ryan stalked up the kitchen stairs, paused halfway, and glanced back. Just when they were all starting to get on with their lives, Annie’s absence was slamming back into them, this recent crash reminding them what they’d lost. Whether Mitch or Julia wanted to admit it, it had hit them all hard, bringing back memories from five years ago.
He rubbed his aching head and continued up the stairs. Memories swirled through his mind as he flopped down onto the bed in his room. That last day—dropping her off at the airport that morning, kissing her good-bye, rubbing a hand over her flat belly and smiling at the secret she’d told him the night before, leaning in and taking one last whiff of her sweet lilac scent.
He’d give anything for one more hour with her.
His eyes slid shut. Tears he didn’t realize were still there stung his eyes. He had trouble conjuring up her face these days. She was ingrained in his heart and soul forever, but that image was slowly fading from his memory, the edges turning fuzzy. Even her voice, that husky siren voice of hers that had always tugged at something deep in his soul, was hard to bring up now.
He swiped a hand over the burning pain in his chest. Part of him wished like hell it would just go away. The other part was holding on like it was his last lifeline. He’d already lost her once. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing what little of her he had left.
Chapter Three
“Knock, knock.”
Kate glanced up from her desk and smiled at the face in her doorway. The first smile she’d felt in days…maybe weeks. As she leaned back in her chair, late afternoon sunlight spilled through the windows of her fourteenth-floor office at McKellen Publishing, bathing her in warmth. “Hey, Tom.”
Tom Adams, her managing editor, dropped into the chair across from her. “Looks like you’re getting settled in.”
She looked over her cramped office. Stacks of journals sat against one wall. A half-empty box was pushed up against the bookshelf. She’d managed to set out a few pictures of Reed, a chunk of conglomerate, an obsidian rock she’d picked up hiking a few months back. Papers littered her desk, and framed art leaned against the wall, waiting to be hung. “Trying to. Not making much progress, I’m afraid.”
“How’s the article coming?” He reached for the glass paperweight shaped like a frog that sat on the corner of her desk. Reed had given it to her for Mother’s Day last spring, during his frog stage. Resting an ankle on his opposite knee, Tom passed the paperweight from hand to hand.
She ran her fingers over her hair, hoping to wipe away some of the tension coursing through her. It wasn’t the job leaving her stressed but being here in San Francisco. So close to the answers she was searching for, so far away from them at the same time. “Geochemical Discrimination of Five Lava Dams on the Colorado River? It’s coming along.”
“Sounds interesting. Can’t wait to read it.” His hazel eyes sparkled. In the afternoon sunlight, she could just make out a patch of gray hair, right at his temples.
She couldn’t help but laugh. Only a couple of science nerds could enjoy something like that. But she sensed he wasn’t here because he questioned her work. He knew she was competent, that she knew the job inside out. Geology came to her like second nature. He was here because he was worried.
Her lips pursed. “Stop looking at me like I’m going to fall apart. I’m fine, Tom.”
“Are you?” His brow lifted. “I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I didn’t worry.”
“I know. And I appreciate it. But I’m fine. We’re getting by. The place you loaned us in Moss Beach is perfect.”
“I’m glad you like it. How’s Reed?”
“Okay.” She thought about her four-year-old son. “He loves being near the ocean. But…it’s hard for him right now. He misses Jake.” She did too, although she hated to admit it. No matter what he’d kept from her, no matter how strained their relationship, she still had trouble believing he could have intentionally done anything to hurt her. There had to be a logical explanation for the secrets he’d kept hidden for so long.
Which was why she’d called Tom and finally taken him up on his offer of a job here in San Francisco. Why she’d uprooted Reed clear across the country. She had to find the answers. She had to know what really happened.
“I know there’s not a lot I can do,” he said. “And I know you won’t lean on me even if I offer.”
A grin curled her lips. He knew her so well.
“Regardless,” he went on, “I’m offering, Kate. I want to help.”
“I appreciate it. Really. Just giving me a job was the best thing you could have ever done.”
“That freelance work you were doing for the Dallas office wasn’t anywhere near your potential.”
Her smile faded. Jake hadn’t wanted her to work. He’d wanted to her to stay home, to, as he put it, “get better”. She’d started writing freelance articles for a geology magazine based out of Dallas because she’d needed to do something to keep busy. But they both knew if Jake hadn’t died, she wouldn’t be here now.
She forced a grin she didn’t feel. “If I need anything, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Liar.” He reached into his pocket, drew out a slip of paper. “
And because I know how stubborn you are, I’m going to give this to you before you ask. That’s the name of a lawyer here in town I’ve used before. I know you’re running into a dead end with that nursing home. Someone knows something. A lawyer might be able to apply some legal pressure, open some doors for you. No one likes a pushy lawyer.”
“Thanks. I’ll give him a call later in the week.”
He rose and set the paperweight back on her desk. “Do that. And zip me a copy of that article when it’s done.”
“Hey,” she called, realizing she hadn’t even asked about his wife yet. “How’s Kari?”
A silly grin crept up his face. “Fat and happy.”
“When’s she due?”
“Four more weeks.”
His beaming face brought a warmth to her chest. After Kari’s bout with ovarian cancer, they’d never expected to have a baby. Thanks to new drug treatments, she was nearing the end of her pregnancy.
“Give her my best. Tell her I’d love to have lunch with her sometime if she’s feeling up to it.”
“I will. Cut out early, Kate. Go home to that kid of yours.”
When he disappeared into the office chaos, Kate swiveled to look out at the view of San Francisco. Water glinted in the distance between towering skyscrapers. Cars honked below on the street. On a deep breath, she closed her eyes.
She’d been here a whole week now and hadn’t remembered a single thing. Nothing was familiar to her. Not the city or the scenery or the atmosphere. She’d hoped beyond hope that something, anything would trigger her memory. Disappointment was something she was learning to deal with.
The nursing home had been a waste of time. She’d driven out to San Mateo, to the site of the home, but nothing there had tugged at her memory, either. The original facility had burned in a fire almost a year ago and the director of the rebuilt facility had all but slammed the door in her face, refusing to answer her questions. Every lead ended in a wall. Someone somewhere knew something. She just had to figure out where to start.
She fingered the lawyer’s name and number Tom had given her as she gazed out at the city again. Swiveling back to her laptop, she pulled up the Internet and paused on the news page.
Along the right sidebar, under Entertainment News, a picture of a man—a really hot man with blond hair—had been posted. The most gorgeous woman Kate had ever seen was literally wrapped around him. His arm was tight around her waist, one of hers was hidden inside his open suit jacket, and the other was draped across his chest. And she was whispering something in his ear. Something that was making him smile like he’d just heard the naughtiest of secrets.
Jake had never smiled like that with her. They’d certainly never been so intimate in public. The pair made an attractive couple, yet…Kate’s gaze kept straying back to the man’s face. She was sure she’d never met him before, but there was something familiar in those piercing blue eyes. Something…
Excitement pulsed in her veins when she realized where her mind was going. She scanned the photo again. They were walking across some kind of lobby—a hotel, she’d bet. Heading toward a night of passion. Lucky girl. A burst of jealousy coursed through her as she read the caption below the photo: Marriage Rumors Swirl Around Top Model and Pharmaceutical Giant.
Kate’s gaze snapped back to the woman, and in an instant, all that excitement deflated in her chest. No wonder something felt familiar about the pair. The woman was a model. An underwear model. Kate had seen her before in numerous magazines.
She frowned. Leaned back in her chair. Called herself stupid for getting so worked up. Over a paparazzi photo, no less. How on earth would she possibly know a pharmaceutical tycoon? The idea was ridiculous.
Putting the matter out of her head, she pulled up a search page and scrolled through the list of lawyers in the San Francisco area. The one name that stood out to her wasn’t the name Tom had just given her.
She stared at it. Debated her options. She’d gone with her gut coming to San Francisco. While she appreciated Tom’s help and his suggestion of a lawyer was a good one, she had to go with her gut again. Something in the back of her head said trusting her instincts was important here. More important than it had ever been before.
***
Ryan stood at the wall of windows in his office on the forty-eighth floor, hands on his hips, gaze sweeping over the city. The setting sun glinted off the bay. Alcatraz hovered in the distance, the buildings nothing but cold, empty shells of their former selves. Not all that different from him, really.
Shit. He swept a hand over his forehead. He was a fucking good time to be around these days, wasn’t he? If he didn’t find a way to bounce out of this rut he’d been in for the last week, Mitch would find a way to kick his ass out of it. And Ryan didn’t need to give Mitch another reason to kick his ass. Mitch had been gunning for him ever since that day back in college when he’d found out Ryan was dating his baby sister.
The knock at the door brought him around, breaking the memories loose before they could take root and suck him under. Hannah Hughes stuck her head through the crack. “You got a minute?”
“For you, I’ve always got a minute.”
Hannah crossed the room like a female cat, all long-legged grace, the fitted red blazer and knee-length skirt highlighting her runner’s physique. She nodded toward his desk. “Is that the new Reliquin promo?”
He turned the drug layout so they could both see it. “Marketing department just sent it up. It doesn’t hit me.”
Hannah crossed her arms over her chest, studied the page. “It doesn’t scream happiness. This new breast cancer drug’s supposed to make life better for women. You need an attractive woman, kids running around, maybe a few toys littering the floor. Something that says life goes on after cancer.”
“Don’t even think about it.” He knew where she was headed. Hannah had her hand in every part of this company already. She didn’t need to stick a finger in something else. “You have enough to do. Pretty soon, I won’t be able to afford you.”
“You can barely afford me now.” She dropped into a chair across from his desk, pulled a file from her bag.
Knowing she was about to go over the day’s nitty-gritty, Ryan reached for his glasses and eased into his leather chair. His daily meeting with Hannah was the one thing he looked forward to everyday. They had an easy working relationship, an unspoken admiration. She was never afraid to tell him just what she thought, and he respected her for it. Needed it. Promoting her to VP of Public Relations for AmCorp Pharmaceuticals was the best thing he’d ever done.
“The FDA’s grumbling about our stage three clinical trial results for Omnitrol,” she said, jumping right to her point. “They want a longer study.”
Ryan took the report she handed him, studied the papers. The FDA’s stringent requirements were a constant frustration. Forget about the fact there were people out there dying from cancers new drugs could possibly cure or prevent. But he knew the game, had played it for years. And his biotech company adhered to each one of the FDA’s rules and evaluations. Sometimes it meant scrapping a drug they’d spent millions on in research and development. Other times it meant shelving one until further studies could be conducted. He had a sinking suspicion Omnitrol was headed in that direction.
“Okay. Get Angela on it. Have her contact Jim Pierson over at Biomed and find out what we need to do.”
“Already have her on it.” She shifted papers in her hands, handed him the next topic. “I’m flying out to Denver next week to check on Research & Development for Mediquin. They’ve started animal testing, and I need to get a handle on how things are going.”
“Jack’s there. He can formulate a report and fax it to us.”
She tipped her head. “Ryan, Jack’s swamped with the merger. The Grayson Pharmaceutical deal’s causing him all kinds of angst. He asked me to come out and give him a hand with the R&D problem, run interference on the last few details of the merger.”
He breathed out a sigh of fr
ustration and raked a hand through his hair. This merger was causing more trouble than it was worth. Grayson Pharmaceuticals was a company he’d been eyeing for a long time. They had a long track record of good sales and important medicines, and he’d been lucky when their cash flow problems had made them vulnerable. But their R&D department was raising red flags with this new drug.
“Fine, but I need you back here ASAP.” He jotted a note and looked up. “Anything else?”
She bit her lip.
“Hannah?”
“You made it into the National Star again.”
His mood took a nosedive at the mention of his “favorite” tabloid magazine.
Hannah pulled the paper from her bag and tossed it on his desk. On the front was a picture of him and Monique walking through the lobby of his New York hotel on his recent visit.
“Fabulous,” he muttered, easing back in his chair as he read the marriage rumor headline.
“It gets better. Inside, there’s a nice little quote from Monique about getting creeped out in hospitals. A terminal patient at one of her runway shows tried to get an autograph, asked her to make an appearance in his cancer ward. She snubbed him. Told him he needed to go grow some hair. Press is all over it, especially with her connection to you. Not sitting well for us, Ryan.”
He clenched his jaw. His relationship with Monique was anything but exclusive, and marriage was the last thing on his mind. He had no control over what she did or said. And they never talked business when they were together. Rarely talked at all, as a matter of fact.
“How do you want me to handle it?” Hannah asked.
“Don’t. Ignore it.”
“The press is going to play this up, and we don’t need backlash right now with everything that’s happening with Grayson. I really think we need to make a statement.”
Like he cared. The press could print anything about him they wanted. “The Grayson deal’s sealed. And I don’t really give a shit what people think of me personally.”