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  "No. Houston is not, and never has been, a criminal." The time had come for some of Carley's questions. She sat up and narrowed her gaze at the two older people who faced her.

  "Just how is it you two came across Houston Smith? Where did you find him?"

  Carley also fancied herself a good judge of human nature. If either of these two tried to lie to her, she'd see through them in an instant.

  Luisa answered her questions with a steady gaze and clear voice. "I found him beaten to a bloody pulp, shot and unconscious on a deserted road near here. I brought him to my clinic. I thought I was just going to make him comfortable … to die. But he's one tough case. Within ten days he started coming around. He never did remember what happened to him." She breathed a mournful sigh. "Just as well, I suppose."

  Carley winced at the images of the man she loved broken and near death. "So you believe his amnesia was caused by the blows to his head?"

  "Of course. What else? Actually, I'm surprised he's not blind, deaf and dumb as well," Luisa grumbled.

  The frustration of not having known where he was and not being able to help him almost swamped Carley again—the same as it had when she'd been ordered to bed all those months ago. She fought it off now. He was alive and well, and she and Cami were here to make sure he was never alone again.

  "And why didn't you notify the sheriff about him?" Carley sat back in her chair and narrowed her gaze at the two elderly people in front of her.

  For the first time Luisa squirmed in her chair, and Gabe seemed to shrink into his.

  "We … that is … I had grown so fond of the boy by the time I realized he would make it that I … well, dang it," Luisa began. "I figured he'd be wanted for something, and he'd already suffered so much. What's the harm in allowing a man to begin anew? He didn't remember any of his past transgressions. Why make him face the consequences for acts he didn't recall?"

  Carley's heart softened toward the elderly woman, whose gruff exterior hid her own soft nature. But there was more to be learned.

  "Tell me more about the place where you found him," she probed.

  Luisa studied her a minute. "Are we under interrogation here, young woman? You sound like you've questioned people before. Is there something you'd like to share with us?"

  "You answer my questions first." Carley pinned the woman with her best steely look.

  Luisa nodded her head slowly. "Okay … it was right before dawn. I'd just spent the night helping a migrant woman deliver her twins." She hesitated a second then continued. "They were camped down near the river. The Border Patrol found them and sent for me when they realized there wasn't time for anything else.

  "Anyway, I took a shortcut down the levee road, but my headlights spotlighted a lump in my path. I figured it was an animal of some sort, but when I drove nearer and it hadn't moved I got out to investigate. When I saw what it really was, I figured he was dead. But he did still have a pulse. I dragged him into my car and gave him what comfort I could."

  "You didn't see anyone else? Find anything that might tell you what had happened to him?"

  Luisa shrugged a shoulder. "Nope. Mind you, I didn't look much right then, I was a tad busy."

  "He was shot, how about the bullet? Do you still have it?" Carley was grasping for any kind of clue.

  "Bullet went right through. I did go back later … looking for his wallet or a … gun. I found nothing. As dry as it's been lately, you couldn't even tell a car had driven by in the last few months."

  At Carley's silent contemplation, Luisa asked her own question. "You with the law someway, girl?"

  Carley nodded slightly but had to tell her she wasn't at liberty to explain. She did assure both of them that the children would not be in any danger. Later, after she'd excused herself and gone upstairs to check on Cami, she stood at their bedroom window and stared out on the star brightened yard.

  Oh, my love, how did you come to this strange place?

  Carley wrapped her arms around herself and leaned her forehead against the glass window. For the thousandth time in the past eighteen months, she wished for things to be different. Why hadn't she told Witt about their baby when she had the chance? Why hadn't she made him admit his feelings for her?

  She forced back the tears, remembering him in the clearing in the woods on that last fateful late-night sting. Laughing and so full of life, he told her he'd be back soon. Then he'd stepped away forever.

  She rubbed at the tension in the back of her neck while she dreamed a different ending to the one reality had forced upon them. What if she'd asked him not to go after that truck he'd thought he'd seen? What if she'd begged him to stay with her? Where would they be right now?

  Shaking the wishes from her cobwebbed brain, she turned her back on stars that never answered her pleas. It had been such an amazing day. The frustrating work of making the closed-off and distant Houston Smith learn to love again stretched before her like an endless highway. Could she make it happen in a couple of weeks?

  * * *

  Houston loved early mornings. The stillness brought silence and solitude, a respite from the terrors of the night and noisy business of the daylight hours.

  He suppressed a chuckle as his boots clogged across the kitchen tile in the main house. Last night was different from all the rest. It wasn't fear that kept him awake. No, his sleeplessness began and ended with visions of the warm and sensual Carley.

  Errant dreams still played with his mind. Dreams of Carley, wild and primitive, rising naked over him, pushing him past the rational world. She bit his neck and dug her fingernails into his shoulders in her passion.

  Houston flexed his hands with the memory of driving them through her thick, rich hair. Only, it wasn't a real memory, even if it felt more real than anything else in his current life. It was only a dream.

  Still half-aroused and wondering why his dreams of a woman he'd just met should seem so real, he tried to focus on the nightmares that had been intermingled with his sweet visions of Carley. Those dark and terrifying imaginings. The ones he'd thought he'd banished weeks ago. The quiet of the morning calmed him and made the dreams seem not so real.

  Since he had no memories of childhood, family or fond friendships to guide his relationships with others, Houston genuinely liked to be alone. Single life meant no fear. No fear of whoever had stolen his memories, no fear of forgetting an enemy and no fear of remembering a broken heart. But at night, when the dark dreams came calling, wispy patches of dread held free rein and controlled his world.

  Deep in his soul Houston knew he had not been a coward in his previous life. Even now, he'd rather face the truth head-on than hide … but what was the truth? And who could he trust?

  Houston pulled a mug from the cabinet and poured himself a cup of the coffee Lloyd had made just before heading to the shower. In another half hour Lloyd would be throwing pots and pans around the kitchen while he performed his magic breakfast rituals.

  By that time Houston's day would be in full swing, beginning with the chores in the horse barn. Depending on the animals' needs, Houston figured he might be able to take the time for breakfast in a couple of hours—or he might not.

  With his first sip of the sludge Lloyd passed off as java, Houston remembered the nightmares again. Just last week he'd begun to believe that the haunting images he saw when he closed his eyes were slowly receding. No such luck. Last night, interspersed with intense dreams of Carley, they came back with a vengeance.

  Houston supposed that's what he deserved for going to bed with the beautiful and enigmatic Carley on his mind. He'd tried to sort through his impressions of her—without totally giving up on the rest of his life.

  Yeah, right.

  Like last night when he couldn't eat. And today when he'd have trouble concentrating at work. He sighed and resigned himself to a long, tiring day.

  "What in God's name is that horrible noise?" Carley's voice preceded her through the kitchen doorway.

  Houston spun around to see the
woman who'd been occupying his mind coming toward him in a fury. "Ma'am?"

  "Oh, no. We're not going through that ma'am thing again." She smiled and pulled on his shirt-sleeve. "It's Carley, and if you can't hear that dreadful noise you must be deaf. Come with me."

  He allowed her to tug him toward the outside door, but only because he was enchanted by the woman. She had on a terry cloth robe, pulled tight in the middle by a nonmatching drawstring. On her dainty feet were two of the rattiest-looking fuzzy slippers in existence.

  Her hair… Ah, her hair was the best part of the picture. Sleep tousled and standing straight up in spots, Carley's shoulder-length, auburn tresses formed a cloud of seductive curls around her face. Houston's fingers itched with the need to touch her—anywhere—everywhere.

  When she pushed at the screen door, his mind cleared enough to question the wisdom of allowing a woman in night clothes to step outside into the darkness. "Uh. Just where are we headed at this hour, little lady?" He held back, pulling against her force.

  Carley turned to him and tugged on his sleeve once more. "Outside. Just under my window. I want you to tell me what the noise is that woke me up."

  Houston relaxed enough so she could pass through the door and drag him along with her. As they walked around the house's foundation, he marveled at what a vibrant life force this woman named Carley really was. Something had distressed her and disturbed her sleep. Instead of hiding from it, however, here she was, outside the protection of the house, headed straight for the trouble. Fantastic.

  They turned a corner, and she came to an abrupt halt. Houston still held the mug and some of the hot coffee sloshed over. Fortunately, it missed his hand.

  "There. That's the sound. What is that noise?"

  He had to concentrate for a minute. He didn't hear a thing except for the usual night sounds of tree frogs chirping, nighthawk wings whooshing on the wind and various birds calling to their mates in predawn confusion.

  "Sorry, Carley, I don't hear anything unusual."

  "That shrieking? You don't hear that? It sounds like someone's being attacked."

  He tried to sort through the sounds. "You mean the grackles cawing?"

  "No. I know what those pesky blackbirds sound like. We had some in the trees outside our apartment. What I'm curious about is that other noise. Like a scream."

  Finally it occurred to him that she'd probably never heard that particular sound before.

  "Oh, the chachalacas." He chuckled and took a sip from his mug. "They're just birds. A little bigger than the grackles and a whole lot noisier, but still, only birds. Did they frighten you?"

  "No, they didn't frighten me. I was terrified. That's a bird call?"

  "Yep. I'll take you down to the resaca sometime. That's where they nest. Interesting-looking birds. They can't fly but they have huge, iridescent green tails."

  "Resaca? Chachalaca? I speak some Spanish, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

  He gently pulled his forearm from her grip and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Come on. I'll explain it all another time. Right now let's get you back to the house. That's enough big game bird-watching for one morning."

  The stars spread enough light over the range for Houston to see Carley's face flush. "Is it morning already? I didn't get much sleep last night."

  He thought of his own tossing and turning and felt a kinship he didn't think he was ready to discuss. "Sorry. Bad dreams?"

  "No. New place. Strange noises. There are so many strange sounds. And then when I heard the shrieking… Well, I guess I'd been still long enough. I simply had to know what that particular sound was."

  Carley opened the screen door, stepped up onto the threshold and turned to face him. He hadn't expected the sudden change of direction and bumped right into her. He reached his one free hand up to steady her and immediately wished he hadn't.

  The last bit of coffee in his cup spilled out on the ground. The heat of the night penetrated the still air, and the earth stopped rotating as they gazed into each other's eyes. Like the parched ground of the pastures, the need to drink her in rose up in him.

  He slid his hand from her shoulder to her flush-stained neck and let his fingers glide over that silky flesh. "What's happening between us, Carley? Why do I feel as though we're meant to be together?"

  The brashness of his remark threw him for a loop. How could he say such things to a near stranger?

  But Carley didn't look thrown—or upset. She also didn't answer him. She just looked wide-eyed, soft and sexy as all hell. He took a breath and thought he smelled strawberries again. He figured it shouldn't, but the fragrance turned him on instantly.

  Houston's fingers stroked the outline of her jaw. He knew this was crazy, but … he couldn't seem to stop.

  Carley exhaled quietly and closed her eyes. He really couldn't help himself. His thumb needed … had to … stroke her full lower lip. Brushing it lightly, he closed his own eyes against the strong sensation. He wanted her desperately.

  He felt her eyes pop open at that instant, and he knew she was drawing away, even before she moved. She had a lot more sense than he had.

  She turned into the kitchen.

  He cleared his throat and tried to sound unaffected. "If I hadn't been here, would you have gone outside? By yourself, I mean."

  "Of course, for all the good it would have done me." She laughed softly and put a hand to her hair as if trying to pat down the tangles. "I must look a sight. What are you doing up at this hour, anyway?"

  Houston walked to the counter to set down his mug. "I'm always up by now," he said without facing her, trying to steady his badly shaken libido. "Time to start my workday."

  When he turned around to finish explaining about ranch chores, he felt a vague wave of nausea—then a thump in the vicinity of his chest. Carley stood in the doorway, leaning one hand against the door frame and smiling at him. Her hair billowed around her head like a burnished cloud. Soft, touchable … and memorable.

  A fleeting strand of memory floated in—and back out—of his conscious mind. It was almost like a path to the past had opened in his brain. But as quickly as it came, it was gone.

  Houston felt so frustrated at not being able to capture the memory he was speechless. His hands fisted with the anger surging inside him. Why couldn't he simply open the window in his mind and remember?

  "Were you about to say something else?" Carley was looking at him as if her entire life depended on whatever he had to say.

  The earnestness with which she scrutinized his face softened the anger and dissipated his disappointment. Those strong emotions were quickly replaced with an even stronger desire to drag this woman to his chest and taste the passionate fervor he knew awaited him in her kiss.

  He shook his head to bring himself around to the real world before he let emotions rule his actions. "No. I have to go to work. I'll see you later."

  Carley felt disconcerted as Houston turned and, without another word, strode out the screen door and into the muted streaks of approaching daylight. She could have sworn she'd seen a faint glimmer of recognition in his eyes a moment ago.

  This whole thing was too hard. Not being able to take him in her arms and comfort him when he looked so lost left her emotionally drained. And each time he walked away, her instincts demanded she not let him go—that she keep him within sight at all times.

  Carley mounted the stairs toward her room. Time to get Cami up and dressed for the start of another day. As Carley climbed, she couldn't stave off the disappointment dragging her down.

  A few days ago Carley had believed she'd been through a life-shattering event when Witt had disappeared. She was wrong. Being close to him without him having his memory back was turning out to be much more difficult. As a matter of fact, it was fast becoming the hardest thing she'd ever done in her life.

  * * *

  Carley's day raced ahead without her complete permission. She would've loved to go out on the ranch, find Houston working, and just follow h
im around until he looked at her through Witt Davidson's eyes. Or maybe she would curl up in a dark room somewhere and simply wallow in self-pity.

  Instead, Cami needed a bath and breakfast. And Carley needed to do some work.

  After breakfast mother and daughter inspected the toddlers' playroom, met the three other children Cami's age who would share the morning with her and checked out the competent woman who baby-sat for the youngsters. Carley was a tad concerned about how Cami would take to staying in a strange place all day without her, but she needn't have been. The last sight Carley had of her daughter was when she tried to give her a kiss, only to have Cami ignore her in favor of stealing a block belonging to another little girl.

  Carley set out to look around the offices and sleeping rooms that comprised the main house. For an institution, the place didn't feel a bit sterile. The infants and toddlers' rooms were on the first floor of this building. Two nurses shared living quarters with the little ones, and all their rooms were painted in bright, cheery colors. Carley was pleased to find that the rooms didn't smell like disinfectant. They did smell clean, but the overpowering scent was of baby powder.

  She also learned that during the day local community volunteers filled in as caretakers for the very youngest. As part of their regular chores, the teenagers living at the home also helped out with the babies after school and on weekends. This week two infants along with the three toddlers were in temporary residence.

  Sooner than she would have liked, the time came to behave like an undercover FBI agent. Reid wanted her to dig into the home's files to look for any discrepancies.

  Sitting in her new office, and trying her best to concentrate, Carley found herself daydreaming about Houston instead of sorting through the stacks of unfiled paperwork. All the investigations she'd done while Witt had been gone helped her to understand that he'd had some demons in his past. She now knew something of his long-term, unsolved traumas, and that they could have prolonged his actual acceptance of their love. But those childhood problems would not have stood in their way forever. She knew she possessed the training and the love to help him overcome his past and come to terms with himself and with her. Given enough time.