Into His Private Domain. Janice Maynard
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gone… merely obscured by her injury.
Gareth carried her carefully, but impersonally. It wasn’t his fault if her hormones and heartbeat went haywire. He smelled of wood smoke and shampoo, a pleasing mélange of masculine odors. Despite his flashes of animosity, she felt safe in his embrace. He might not want her in his home, but he posed no threat to her well-being… at least not physically. The unseen dangers might prove to be more hazardous.
She liked being held by Gareth Wolff. What did that say about her?
Of course, her instinctive response could be attributed to something akin to Stockholm syndrome—the bonding between kidnapper and victim. Not that Gareth had done anything wrong. Quite the contrary. But at the moment, he was the only reality in her spinning world. He and his brother Jacob.
Most likely, her affinity for the surly Wolff brother was nothing more than an atavistic urge to seek protection from the unknown.
Gareth’s Jeep was parked outside a large garage at the rear of the house. The building, roomy enough to house a fleet of vehicles, had been designed to blend into the landscape, much like the house. A cedar shake roof and rustic, carefully hewn logs seemed to match the edge in her host’s personality. Gareth’s home was enormous and clearly expensive, but it suited his gruff demeanor.
Once he had tucked her into the passenger seat, he loped around the side of the vehicle and slid behind the wheel. Thick fog blanketed their surroundings. Gracie peered into the darkness, shivering slightly, not from the temperature, but from the feeling of being so isolated. She’d seen horror movies that rolled the opening sequence in a similarly creepy fashion.
She clenched her fist in the blanket and pulled it closer to her chest. “Where are we?”
Gareth shot her a quick glance. “Wolff Mountain.”
She cleared her throat. “I hope that’s not as sinister as it sounds.”
His quick snort of laughter ended as quickly as it began. She had a hunch he didn’t want to show any signs of softening toward her.
He wrenched the wheel to avoid a tiny rabbit that scampered in front of them. “This is my home. I grew up here with my two brothers and three cousins. I’m sure all of this will come back to you,” he snarled. “My family has no secrets.”
She wanted to ask for more details, more explanations, anything to fill in the blanks. But her innocent question had clearly hit a nerve. She lapsed into silence, using her free hand to grip the door of the vehicle as Gareth sent them hurtling around the side of the mountain.
The trip was mercifully brief. Without warning, another house loomed out of the eerie fog. This one was more modern than Gareth’s, all steel and glass. Almost antiseptic in design. Though in all fairness she wasn’t getting a first look at it in the best of situations.
Jacob met them at the door and ushered them inside, his eyes sharp with concern as Gareth set her on her feet. “Any change?”
The terse question was aimed more at Gareth than Gracie, so she kept her silence.
Gareth tossed his keys onto a black lacquer credenza. “She doesn’t remember details of her life. But functional knowledge appears to be unaffected. She knows how to use her phone, but the names are a mystery… or so she says.”
Gracie flushed. She was embarrassed and exhausted. The last thing she needed was Gareth’s mockery.
Jacob waved a hand toward a living room that looked like something out of a designer’s catalog. “Make yourself comfortable, bro. The game’s on channel fifty-two. Beer’s in the fridge.”
Gareth frowned. “I should come with you.”
Jacob put a hand on his shoulder. “Not appropriate, Gareth. Trust me. She’s in good hands.”
He turned to Gracie, his smile gentle. “Let’s get you checked out, little lady. I promise not to torture you too badly.”
Unlike Gareth, Jacob trusted her to walk on her own. She abandoned her cocoon of blankets in the foyer and followed him down a hallway to the back of the house. Everything was in black and white—walls, flooring, artwork… A highly sophisticated color scheme, but oddly cold and sterile.
When she stepped through a door into the clinic proper, all became clear. Jacob Wolff had designed his house to mirror his professional domain.
Gracie’s curiosity as she surveyed the state-of-the-art facility had nothing to do with her amnesia. She had never seen such equipment and facilities outside of a hospital. Even with her memory loss, she was sure of that.
As Jacob positioned the CT scanner, she cocked her head. “I may not remember much, but isn’t this setup a little unusual?”
His quick glance reminded her of Gareth. “I have a number of high profile patients who want to be able to get medical attention away from the eyes of the paparazzi.”
She gaped. “Like movie stars?”
He shrugged, adjusting a dial. “Politicians, movie stars… Fortune 500 CEOs.”
Something must have shown on her face, because his expression grew fierce. “Having wealth doesn’t make a person’s right to privacy any less important. I’m fortunate enough to have the means to give them anonymity and quality medical care.”
She held up her hands. “I didn’t say a word.”
“You were thinking it.” He motioned to the machine. “Have a seat. There’s nothing to be afraid of. You won’t be closed in.”
She sat gingerly on the narrow bench and tensed as he slid rubber wedges on either side of her head, immobilizing her skull in a semicircle of metal. The camera thingy rotated around her upper body in several quick passes, and it was all over.
Jacob waved her into a chair. “Now I’ll show you the inside of your head. Hopefully we won’t see anything too alarming.”
She sat down gingerly. “As long as you find a brain… that’s all I ask.”
He chuckled, but didn’t speak as he brought up the 3-D images on the screen. Gracie waited, her heart pumping madly. Jacob examined the results with the occasional unintelligible murmur.
Gracie lost patience. “Well?”
He pushed back his chair and turned to face her. “I don’t see anything alarming… no fractures… nothing to require further medical attention. You have swelling, of course, as a result of the blow to your head, but even that is in the normal range.”
She bit her lip, disappointment roiling in her stomach. If there was nothing to substantiate her amnesia, Gareth would think, more than ever, that she was liar.
Jacob seemed to read her thoughts. “Absence of fractures doesn’t discount your current situation. All jokes aside, temporary amnesia is more common than you might think. And we have every reason to think it will resolve itself naturally.”
“But when?” she cried, springing to her feet. “How can I go to sleep tonight and not know who the hell I am?”
Jacob leaned back and linked his hands behind his head. “You do know who you are,” he said gently. “You’re Gracie Darlington. It may take a little while for your brain to accept that as fact. But it will happen. I promise.”
Gracie stewed inwardly as he finished his exam. As expected, the X-ray of her leg showed no sign of any damage other than the bad cut.
After a quick check of temp, blood pressure and a few other markers, Jacob patted her shoulder. “You’ll live,” he teased.
They walked back through the house and found Gareth sprawled on an ivory leather sofa. The thick, onyx carpet underfoot was a sea of inky, lush luxury.
Gareth bounded to his feet. “Sit here,” he commanded Gracie. “I want to talk to my brother.”
Despite the fact that they