Chapter Four

“Where are we?” he asked her as they were finishing up dinner.

“The middle of nowhere. You are about twenty miles from a town called Shadyville. In Montana.”

Shadyville. Why did that name seem familiar to him? Why can’t I remember anything? “Damn it,” he swore as his fist pounded on the tabletop.

Unable to help it, Dezarae jumped and squealed, an act that brought him to a halt.

“Jesus, I did it again. I don’t mean to scare you. I am just so frustrated that I can’t remember anything. I try but it is all just a complete blank.”

“I’m sorry. I am just not used to having a…a…a…”

For the first time a half smile cracked that face. Firm lips twitched as he filled it in, “A man in the house.” He was glad she wasn’t.

“Well…yes, I guess.”

“Or a white man?” His eyes grabbed hers and forced a connection.

She nodded. “Especially not a white man.”

“Do you have something against white men?” The blunt question was asked as charcoal gray held dark chocolate. Please say no.

“Not that I’m aware of. Have something against black women?” she asked in return, her eyes dropping quickly to his left pectoral.

“No, not at all.” If I ever did, I don’t remember it and I don’t now. I wish she wasn’t glancing at my tat-too so often.

“Well, at least we got that out of the way. I have to tell you,” she said as she cleared off the dinner dishes and set down a blueberry cobbler and a pot of coffee. “I don’t know if I will be able to take you to town tomorrow if this storm keeps going the way it is.”

“And you don’t mind me being here?” His head cocked to the side as he accepted the helping of warm cobbler and a hot mug of coffee.

“I’m not going to send you out in the storm, if that is your concern. You didn’t even have a coat on. And, while I don’t know you from a hole in the ground, I don’t want to send you to your death.”

“That’s good, ’cause it would severely hamper our courting,” he said with a bone-melting grin.

A brilliant smile filled her face. “Our courting?”

“Well, I don’t always let women undress me down to my boxers, and let me sleep in their bed. So I figure we must be courting.”

He saw her begin to tremble. “That is an interesting piece of logic you have there. What makes you think you I am interested in being courted by you?” She arched her brows and stared at him.

He took a bite of the cobbler, washed it down with a swig of the coffee she had placed there, and never once released her gaze. “You just said you didn’t have anything against white men.”

“I don’t, but it doesn’t mean you are my kind of man, does it?” she questioned him.

There was a flash of something foreign in his eyes as they moved over her upper torso. Regardless of the circumstances that brought him here, his body obviously wasn’t broken as far as sexual reactions. She was making him feel some very intense sensations. And, considering his lack of memory, if there was a woman out there who made him feel something more intense it would kill him. “Oh, I’m your kind of man. I can see how you react to me,” he purred as he drew the fork slowly out of his firm mouth.

“So you are handsome, big deal.” It was a struggle to keep her true feelings off her face.

He shrugged. “Glad you find me handsome, and I know you think it is a big deal.” He winked sudden-ly. “I think you are enchanting.”

“You don’t know me.”

“True. Tell me about you.” His request came out more like an order.

Standing, she removed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, got it set, and turned it on. “It’s late; you should get some sleep.” She put her hand out, gesturing for him to leave the kitchen first.

He acquiesced. His body was exhausted still, so he didn’t put up much of an argument. As he got to the entrance to the bedroom, he stopped suddenly. Turning to face the beautiful woman trailing him, he reached out one tanned hand and caressed her face. “Thank you for all you are doing for me.”

“Anybody would have done it,” she said, moving back, as if uncomfortable with the feelings his simple touch evoked in her.

I don’t think so. “Tell me something.” This time it was a request, not a command.

“If I tell you what you want to know, then will you go to bed?” Dezarae questioned.

“I’ll even let you tuck me in,” came his saucy reply.

She rolled her eyes, clearly trying not to grin. “Ask your question.”

“What is your full name?” One hand started to reach for her before clenching and remaining at his side.

“Dezarae, spelled D-E-Z-A-R-A-E, Phoenix Kerry. Now, get some sleep.” It was a gentle push that she gave him to send him in the door. “Goodnight.”

Both trembled from the contact but neither responded to it. “’Night.” My little firebird. He walked into the room, stopping by the bed to turn around and meet her gaze. “Sure you don’t want to tuck me in?”

She smirked at him. “I’m sure a strong man like yourself can handle that.”

“Glad to you know also think I am strong,” he teased back.

Dezarae refused to answer him, just left the room with a shake of her head.

The digital readout on the clock said three in the morning. Body not as sore but feeling just as disoriented, the man who had no name got out of the soft bed and padded silently to the door. His gray eyes easily adjusted to the dark as he stuck his head out into the hallway.

There was another door to his right and he cracked it open, looking for his hostess. Nothing was in there but books and papers scattered all over the room. He walked past the bathroom door and, as he walked into the living room, he found her.

She lay on the couch sound asleep. A blanket covered her from toes to chin. I can’t believe she took the couch and let me have her bed. A gentle smile crossed his face as he moved silently into the room and knelt down beside her.

“Thank you for saving my life, Dezarae Phoenix Kerry. Thank you,” he whispered as his hand trailed down the side of her sleeping face, almost—but not quite—touching the skin that was smoother than silk.

When she moaned softly and tried to burrow deeper into the couch, he reacted. With ease, he slid his arms under her and lifted her off the couch and carried her back down the hall to place her in her own bed. She never awakened.

After tucking her in, he brushed some wayward curls off her face, staring at her like he couldn’t get enough. “Sleep well, my little firebird, sleep well.” Before he did something he couldn’t take back, the man with the gray eyes left the room, carrying the blanket she had used on the couch, and took her place.