I'll Remember You (Hell Yeah!) Page 5

  “You have?” She was a sexy woman. As a man, he could not help but appreciate her. He struggled to place her, to place this room—anything—but he couldn’t. “Do I know you?”

  Martina swallowed. “Yes, you do.” Searching his face she asked, “What do you remember?”

  He looked at her blankly. “I’m not sure.” A part of him wanted to escape, to hunt something or someone familiar, but he didn’t know which way to turn. “I need my pants.” Yea, pants. He didn’t want to get out of bed in front of strangers with just his underwear to cover him. “And I’m hungry.” Was she a nurse? She wasn’t dressed like a nurse.

  “Hungry? That’s a good sign. What would you like to eat?” She looked a bit more relaxed.

  Considering her question for a moment, he answered, “Scrambled eggs and toast.”

  “Of course. Good choice. It would be best to not eat anything too heavy just yet.” She stepped over to the wall and pressed a button, giving directions for his meal. “Let me get Dr. Carlos. He will be so pleased.” Stepping out, she was gone only a few moments before she returned with a man who wore all white. He was Hispanic also.

  “Nuestro paciente está despierto.” He’d just said ‘our patient is awake’. English was his first language, of that he was certain, but he could understand Spanish.

  “Patient?” This was no hospital. “Tell me what’s going on? Why am I here?”

  “Do you remember your name?” The doctor shined a light in his eyes. He jerked his head. “Does that hurt?”

  “It didn’t feel good.” Name? He thought, a feeling of panic sweeping over him. He needed answers and damn soon. “No. I don’t think I do.”

  The beautiful woman let out a sigh, came over and sat down beside him while the doctor did his examination. She took his hand in hers. He fought the urge to pull it out of her grasp.

  “I’m so sorry you don’t remember.” Squeezing his fingers, she looked him in the eyes. “This is Los Banos, my family’s ranch. We were vacationing on my yacht when you had your diving accident. You struck your head on something, that’s all we know. After your operation, I brought you here.”

  He felt of his head. That explained the bandages. “How long ago was this?”

  “Over a month ago. You remained comatose for a long while. Recuperating from brain surgery takes some time.”

  A feeling of uneasiness swept over him. “Is that why I can’t remember anything?”

  She stared at him for a moment before replying. A shadow seemed to pass over her face. “The surgery may be part of it, but you had no memory when you were pulled from the ocean.”

  “Why did I have to have an operation?”

  The doctor answered the question this time. “You had a skull fracture and a cerebral hemorrhage. We must watch you carefully, you are not out of the woods yet.”

  “Great.” The pain he was feeling was normal, he supposed. But he had to get his bearings; he had to make sense of what was going on. Right now, he felt as if was adrift, floundering in a sea of uncertainty. “Who are you?” He looked at the pretty woman who was still holding on to his hand.

  She smiled a tight, patient smile. “I am Martina Delgado.”

  He hated the next question. “And who am I?”

  The doctor stood up straight. The woman met the doctor’s eyes, then looked back down to him. “You are Austin Wade. My fiancé.”

  “Fiancé?” He repeated the word as if it were a foreign concept. “None of this makes sense to me. None of it seems right.” He felt nothing for this woman. There was no drawing, no attraction. Nothing.

  A tap on the door drew their attention. Another uniformed man came in with a tray. “Food, Señorita.”

  She stood up and made room for him to sit further up in the bed. “I have to go to the bathroom before I can eat, Martina.” Vague memories of a damn catheter came to mind. He hated being an invalid. Waving the hands away which tried to help him, Austin stood, pulling on the soft lounge pants she handed him. Austin...the name didn’t sound like him. Like trying to jam his foot into too small of a boot, it just didn’t fit. But for now, it was the only name he had.

  Seeing a door on the other side of the room, he began walking toward it, hoping it held a commode. The doctor came to assist him. “I’ve got this, Doc.” The man stepped back. Glancing behind him, he saw his ‘fiancé’ standing, just watching him. Her actions puzzled Austin. She didn’t seem comfortable around him, not like she would have been if they had been making love the way engaged people do. Not that he wanted her to hover over him. So, he wasn’t about to complain.

  Going into the adjacent room, he shut the door. God, in heaven! He felt as if he’d stepped into some sultan’s palace. The bedroom was huge and comfortable, but the bath was crazy. A shower covered one wall, big enough to hold a basketball team. It had twenty heads, if it had one, and a bench covered an entire wall. There was a hot tub, deep and wide, big enough for a dozen people. The floor was heated. There was a skylight and a sauna. Two commodes sat to one side, and that was where he headed. Which one should he use? Then, he realized one was a bidet. He almost smiled. That answered one question. He wasn’t very cultured and wherever his original home was, he didn’t have a damn bidet.

  Taking his cock out, he relieved himself, shook it and tucked himself back in the boxers he wore. He didn’t normally wear boxers. A sense of weirdness struck him. How could he remember a foreign language, know he didn’t own a bidet and didn’t wear boxers, yet he couldn’t recall anything else? Stepping over to the mirror, Austin looked at himself. Damn, he was a handsome fella. He chuckled and his attempt at self-humor backfired as a sharp pain pierced his skull. He touched the gauze and tape on the back of his head. Dark hair. Blue eyes. A scruff of beard. His face looked familiar, like he was gazing at an acquaintance whose identity had slipped his mind.

  Leaning in, he stared at himself, eye to eye. “Who the hell are you?” Events from the last few weeks filtered through his mind. He remembered feeling helpless and hurting. He remembered having nightmares which were filled with rage and pain. He could remember a sense of drowning, of water closing over his head as he fought for air. Austin shook off a shiver.

  But most of all, he remembered love. He loved someone more than life itself. Was it Martina?

  “Austin? Are you all right?” It was his fiancé. Funny, she wasn’t his usual type. She was too damn skinny. He wondered when his tastes had changed.

  “Be right out.” He washed his hands and opened the cabinet, looking for something for his headache. Finding a bottle labeled asperina, he took four. With a sigh, he braced himself to go back in the room filled with strangers. With a self-deprecating smile, he admitted he was one of them. Austin Wade was just as much of a stranger to him as they were.

  ***

  Tebow Ranch

  A few days later

  The bed was warm. Libby cuddled down under the covers, and reached for Aron. She needed to be held. Her hand connected with warm skin. Oh, he felt so good. She traced the hard muscles of his arms, feeling them flex beneath her fingertips. Edging closer, she moved from his bicep to his pecs. “I love touching you.”

  As always, he welcomed her. “Why were you way over there? You’re supposed to sleep in my arms.” He drew her to him and she snuggled close.

  “I don’t know. I guess I just got away from you.” Teasing him was one of her favorite past times.

  One moment she was lying on the bed, the next she was lifted in the air and settled right on top of him. His arms came around her like comforting bands of steel, anchoring her body to his. “Don’t you dare try to get away from me, I can’t live without you.”

  Her breasts were pressing into his chest. She could feel her nipples dragging in the soft fur as she kissed her way up his throat to his lips. “I don’t want to live without you, Aron. I need you too much.”

  “I need you…” Libby kissed him again, but she felt dampness and realized it was only her pillow; she was hugging it in her sl
eep. It was wet with tears.

  Los Banos Ranch

  Her hair smelled good. He buried his head in the softness and just inhaled. She was all woman. So soft. When his lips trailed down her cheek, he moaned at the thought of kissing her again. God, he’d missed her. She was so much a part of him. Loving her was the sweetest thing he’d ever known. His cock was pulsing. It had been so long. He needed her so…Lib…

  “Austin, make love to me.” A voice in his ear jerked him from his slumber.

  “What?” He opened his eyes, expecting to see—someone else. “Martina.” She was not who he’d been dreaming about. Desperately, he tried to hold on to the woman in his dreams—any image, a name, her touch. But the sensations were fleeting, drifting away like smoke in the evening breeze.

  Austin pushed his head back firmly into the pillow, trying to escape the woman who was hovering over him. This stranger who said she was his fiancé ran her hand down his naked chest, lower...lower. Soon, she would encounter the evidence of his desire. But it wasn’t for her. He caught her wrist.

  What was wrong with him? He was a red-blooded male. Apparently he needed sex. But something was holding him back… “I can’t.”

  She drew back, her dark Latin eyes burning with flames of desire and impatience. “Why not?”

  At last, a good thing was coming from his accident. “I’m still weak.” Weak, maybe. Horny and able to have sex, yes. But not with her.

  “Would you at least touch me?” She grabbed his hand and tried to force it down between her legs. A tingle of interest sparked in his mind, but then he saw big blue eyes, heard a soft voice and he knew he couldn’t.

  “Sorry, I’m feeling nauseated.” He got up and headed for the bathroom. “Maybe you’d better go back to your room.” With that, he shut the door. Damn, he needed to start wearing pajamas to bed. It was normal for two engaged people to sleep together, to have sex, but this didn’t feel right.

  Austin stood in front of the mirror, waiting to hear her leave the room and shut the door. Here he was, gazing into this glass darkly again. A dull ache caused his head to pound. Headaches were common the first month or so after surgery, or so the doctor said. But Austin welcomed the discomfort. It reminded him he was alive. The memories he’d lost seemed to be closer at that time as well. He could almost remember. Detached, he gazed into the same stranger’s face—unfamiliar, yet at the same time, familiar.

  Finally, he heard the door shut. Keeping her at arm’s length was becoming an uncomfortable struggle. He had no idea if he’d ever remember Martina and their life together or not. Could he accept that this was his world? Or would he hold out for the dream?

  Pulling himself together, he decided to venture downstairs. Getting dressed, he opened the door and headed into the hall.

  Austin was a bit shocked. He hadn’t known what to expect. Of course, the suite he’d been given was extremely comfortable. But the rest of the house was very impressive and familiar to a degree. Yes, he didn’t recall anything about the upstairs, but he seemed to recognize the lower floor. He definitely got the feeling he’d been here before.

  Slowly, holding on to the bannister, Austin stood in the foyer. The whole place was framed by grand arches and the floors were of white marble. A fireplace big enough to roast a hog was off in the room to the right, and to the left was a dining table big enough to seat all of the Dallas Cowboys plus the cheerleading squad. “Hello? Is anyone home?” He’d stayed in that damn bedroom, till he couldn’t stomach it any longer. It was time he got up and took the lay of the land.

  Hell, he didn’t even know where he was. For some reason, he hesitated to ask Martina a lot of questions. First off, because he dreaded what her answers might be and, secondly, she appeared reticent to talk. In fact, she was a bit evasive. The whole predicament was driving him insane.

  Stepping toward the seating area in front of the fireplace, he was surprised to see an older man entering from the right. “Saludos A…Austin.” A hand was raised in greeting and a genuine smile was on his face. For the first time, Austin felt a sense of rightness.

  “Hello, Sir.” Who was this? He and Martina had barely talked, but she had mentioned a sister and an uncle, but he’d been under the impression Esteban was a much younger man. This gentleman had to be in his seventies.

  “I am glad to see you walking around and looking healthy.” He came up and clapped Austin on the shoulder. “How about some brandy?”

  “Sounds good to me.” He sat down where the gentleman indicated. Although he hated to ask, he didn’t see any way around it. “I know I’m supposed to know who you are, but could you remind me?”

  A kind smile creased the man’s face. “I am Tomas Santiago Delgado, Martina and Alessandra’s father.” Tomas extended his hand in greeting.

  Austin took it. “I’m so sorry.” He started to rise.

  “Sit. Sit.” He handed Austin a snifter of brandy. “You were injured. I do not expect you to remember me.”

  A fire was lit in the fireplace, although the air conditioner was running if he wasn’t mistaken. “I don’t remember much, unfortunately.” Taking a swallow, he decided to find out what he could. “Can you tell me exactly where I am?”

  Tomas shook his head. “I’m so sorry this has happened to you. Sorrier than you can imagine.” A look of guilt crossed his features. Austin didn’t understand it.

  “Hey, I’m alive. And from what little I’ve heard about what happened to me, I’m one lucky bastard.”

  “True.” Tomas stared into the fire. “But to answer your question,” he gestured broadly, “this is the Los Banos Ranch in Sonora, Mexico. My family has lived here for ten generations. I can trace my bloodline back to the conquistadors.” He raised a frail fist in the air. “And that is my passion.” He pointed to a painting on the wall.

  Austin rose to look at what the old man was pointing to. He was still weak, but he needed to move around. “A Criollo-Corriente. Very nice.”

  “Ah, you do remember.” Tomas seemed pleased. “You are a cattleman, like me.”

  “Really?” Austin was interested. This didn’t surprise him, not like the information he was now in Mexico. America was his country of birth, of that he was certain.

  “Padre, what are you telling Austin?”

  Martina breezed into the room, closely followed by two men. The first time he’d seen the bodyguards stationed outside his bedroom door, he had been afraid he was a prisoner. But then he realized they accompanied Martina wherever she went. Why, he didn’t know. Of course he realized this part of the world had its dangers, and a woman traveling alone always could use protection. But this seemed a little extreme. “Your father,” he put a little emphasis on the word, “has been telling me things.”

  “Really?” Concern colored her face. “What kind of things?” She looked pointedly at her father, censure clearly in her voice.

  “Is there something he shouldn’t tell me?” Austin wondered at her attitude.

  A smile came upon her aristocratic face. “No, of course not.” Martina poured herself a drink.

  “We were discussing cattle.” Tomas volunteered. “I was telling Austin how much we had in common.”

  Her shoulders seemed to stiffen, but when she turned, she gave them both an indulgent look. “My two men. Of course, you have cattle in common.” Martina came to sit next to Austin on the couch.

  “Refresh my memory.” He couldn’t help but enquire. “Tell me about my past.”

  Tomas fidgeted, much to Austin’s surprise. But his daughter was as cool and calm as a rock. “What would you like to know?” she asked.

  “Where am I from?” He gestured broadly with his hands. “Do I have a home? Do I have any family? Am I broke?” Those all seemed like legitimate questions to him.

  With a small half-smile, Martina began to speak. “You are from northern Wyoming.” She took a sip of the brandy and locked eyes with his, as if she was gauging his reaction to her revelations. “You sold your ranch after it fell on hard t
imes. Los Banos is your home now. You have no family, but me.” She flashed a huge ring in his face. “And you are by no means broke. Your fortune is in good hands. In our bank.”

  They had a bank? And why hadn’t he noticed that ring before. Why had he given up his home to move in with this woman? Even though he didn’t know himself well, this sure as hell didn’t sound like something he would do.

  “Would you like the see the ranch?” Tomas offered. But he seemed to look at Martina for permission. This action further confused him. What father looked to his daughter for permission for something so simple?

  “Yes, I would.” For no other reason than he needed to get out of the house. But ranches and cattle seemed to intrigue him. Austin wanted to investigate the matter further.

  “Do you feel up to a walk or perhaps a ride?”

  “I’m not sure if Austin feels like—”

  He held up his hand. “I do and I want to get out. I’m going stir-crazy in here.” Without waiting for permission of any kind, Austin Wade rose from the couch and retreated upstairs.

  ***

  As soon as he was out of earshot, Martina wheeled around to Tomas. Her face was a mask of fury. “How dare you interfere?”

  The older gentleman rose to his full height. “This is my home. He was my friend. And whatever power you may wield, and however corrupt you are, you will not tell your father how to run his life nor how to hold his tongue. I am no imbecile and this whole mess is a travesty. How can you steal a man away from his family?”

  Martina walked to the hall and looked up the staircase, then she quietly shut the door. When she came back into the room, she got right in her father’s face. “He does not remember his family.”

  “But you know who they are, you could tell him. Set the man free before he becomes embroiled in this nightmare you call a life,” he spat out the words, clearly not afraid of the young woman. “Don’t you realize I know what you’re doing?” He shook his fist at her. “Why you even have the servants monitoring the cable channels. Everything we watch is pre-recorded, edited to make sure no mention of Aron McCoy comes across on our television. Your secretary screens every newspaper and magazine which comes into the house to make sure he does not see the uproar his absence has caused or the search for him that continues until this day. How long do you expect to get away with this? His memory will return.” Anger made his face blood red. “And I’ll be glad when it does!”