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       Amnesiac Ex, Unforgettable Vows

      Robyn Grady

      About the Author

      Award-winning author ROBYN GRADY left a fifteen-year career in television production knowing that the time was right to pursue her dream of writing romance. She adores cats, clever movies and spending time with her wonderful husband and their three precious daughters. Living on Australia’s glorious Sunshine coast, she says her perfect day includes a beach, a book and no laundry when she gets home. Robyn loves to hear from readers. You can contact her at www.robyngrady.com.

      This book is for my fellow

      Romance Writers of Australia

      Romantic Book of the Year finalists.

      Couldn’t have wished for better company!

      One

      A muffled conversation, barely audible, filtered in through the closed hospital room door. Laura Bishop raised her bandaged head off the pillows and, concentrating, pricked her ears. One voice was female, the other distinctly male—her fiery sister and equally passionate husband. Laura rolled her teeth over her bottom lip and strained to make out the words. No luck.

      But neither Grace nor Bishop sounded pleased.

      When Laura had taken a tumble at her home this morning, Grace, who was visiting, had insisted they have the bump on her head checked out. Waiting to see a doctor in a cell phone-free waiting room, Laura had asked Grace to contact Bishop at his Sydney office. She hated to bother him but stints at Casualty could wind on forever, and she didn’t want her husband coming home to an empty house and worrying.

      Besides, Bishop would want to be informed. He was a protective man … at times, overly so. With her congenital heart condition—and his own family history—Laura supposed he had good reason to be.

      The door clicked. When it cracked open an inch, Laura propped up on her elbows.

      “I won’t have her upset,” Laura heard Grace hiss from the corridor.

      Laura’s husband growled back. “I haven’t the least intention of upsetting her.”

      Wincing, Laura eased back down. How she wished the two people she cared about most could get along, but Grace seemed to be the one woman on earth who was immune to Samuel Bishop’s compelling brand of charm. Laura, on the other hand, had been smitten by his sizzling charisma and smoldering good looks from the moment they’d met. Even so …

      Lately she’d begun to wonder.

      She loved Bishop so very much. She was certain he loved her, too, but given what she’d rediscovered about herself this past week … was it possible they’d jumped the gun and had married too soon?

      The door fanned wider. As that familiar athletic frame entered the room, their eyes connected, locked, and suddenly Laura felt dizzier than she had all day. After six months together, Bishop still stirred in her this breathtaking, toe-curling effect, the kind of reaction that flooded her core with want and left her quivering like a half-set jelly.

      He looked as magnificent in that dark, custom-made suit as he had that first night, decked out in an impeccable tuxedo, a wicked gleam igniting his entrancing blue eyes when he’d affected a bow and had asked her to dance. Today his eyes were hooded in that same heart-pumping way, but his gaze didn’t glow with anything close to desire. In fact, his eyes seemed to reflect no emotion at all.

      A shiver crept over Laura’s skin.

      He was always so caring and attentive. Was he annoyed that she’d slipped? That she’d pulled him away from his work? Shaking herself, Laura broke the spell and touched the square bandage that sat above her left temple. She gave a sheepish smile.

      “Apparently I fell.”

      His dark brows swooped together then his head slowly cocked. “Apparently?”

      She hesitated at his single word reply and cast her mind back. “I … I can’t remember it now. The doctor said that’s not unusual. A person has a fall, knocks their head and they can’t recall the incident.”

      He was unbuttoning his suit jacket, running a deliberate palm down his crimson silk tie. His fingers were long and lean. His hands, large and skilled. She loved his hands. Loved the way they knew precisely where, and precisely how, to please.

      “So what do you recall?”

      Her gaze bounced back to his questioning expression and she examined the sterile but comfortable private room.

      “I remember arriving at the hospital. Meeting the doctor. Having a scan … and other tests.”

      Bishop’s mirror blue eyes narrowed.

      He wasn’t fond of tests, as she’d found out two months into their relationship—the night he’d proposed. He’d presented a dazzling white diamond ring and, overwhelmed with surprise and new love, she’d instantly agreed. Later that evening, curled up in his strong arms in his penthouse’s sumptuous bed, she’d told her fiancé about her heart condition—hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. Never one for attention or pity, she normally kept that information to herself. But if they were to be married, of course Bishop needed to know.

      “Grace said she saw you when she was driving up the path to the house,” Bishop said now, flicking back his jacket to slide his hands into his trouser pockets. “She saw you tumbling from the garden’s footbridge.”

      Laura nodded. A drop of around six feet. “That’s what she told me, too.” Like she’d said. She couldn’t remember.

      A pulse pumped once along the dark shadow of his jaw.

      “Grace also said you’re feeling fuzzy. That you seem … uncertain about some other things, too.”

      “I’m clear on everything else.” She pulled herself higher on the bank of pillows at her back. “In fact, I feel clearer today than I have in a long while.”

      His eyes flashed. She knew he’d heard the backbone in her tone, but he didn’t probe. More tellingly, he didn’t come near, gather her up and comfort her, the way he had that evening after he’d proposed.

      That night, when she’d confided in him about her illness, he’d drawn her extra close, had brushed his lips tenderly over her brow then had asked about the odds of any offspring inheriting her disorder. She’d done lots of research. Statistics attested to the fact that a baby could inherit the condition as she had done, however, screening precautions were available. An early termination, due to medical considerations, could be performed. Thankfully, from the hard set of his jaw, she’d gleaned he was as uncomfortable with that scenario as she was. But neither was he convinced that they should take a gamble and simply hope for the best.

      In the quiet of the hospital room now, Bishop’s head angled and he continued to study her as if he wasn’t certain who she was. As if she were some new and curious anomaly. Laura’s nerves frayed more and she thrust her hand out, beckoning. She couldn’t stand the distance a moment more.

      “Bishop, please come over here. We need to talk.”

      The ledge of his shoulders went back and, as an