Forbidden Stranger Read online

“Good,” Nina told him in the house’s small den. “Really good.”

  Cozily warmed and lit by a solar-electric fireplace that looked so real you could smell the artificial smoke, the den was Ewan’s favorite room. He’d furnished it with pieces from his family’s cabin. Well-worn, but comfortable and cozy. Maybe he hoped that seeing them every day would gently jog Nina’s memory. Maybe he just wanted some piece of his own memories in this place. Maybe, Ewan thought, he was an idiot.

  “Glad to hear it.” Ewan cleared his throat as he poured them each a glass of wine from one of the bottles he shipped in monthly. He handed her a glass, part of him certain she would refuse it the way she used to. She used to abstain while she was working, although her enhancements prevented her from getting intoxicated even if she did.

  Nina took the glass with a smile and sipped with a small grimace. “Thanks. How was the flight over? Bumpy, I bet.”

  She’d said that earlier, but Ewan didn’t point that out. Although she was far better than she’d been at first, Nina often still did not recall conversations or incidents from even minutes before. “It wasn’t bad, actually.”

  “And now you’re here. I bet you’re relieved.” Nina took a seat on the faded sofa and tucked a foot beneath her. “Looking forward to a nice, restful visit?”

  “Always.” His voice rasped as he took in the sight of her, profile outlined in the firelight that cast red-gold flickers against her dark skin and hair. When she gave him a curious glance, Ewan forced a bland smile and lifted his glass toward her. “Cheers.”

  “Cheers.” She sipped again.

  Awkward silence. There hadn’t been much of that between them, before. Nina had always been a woman who understood how to be quiet when it wasn’t necessary to speak, although they’d also had their share of crackling anger or tension. This was different. The pauses between sentences, the breaks in the conversation when one or the other of them trailed away. It was his fault, Ewan knew that. He’d spun a story for her and had to remember how to keep telling it.

  It was Nina who finally spoke. She stood, glass still in her hand. “Well, I guess I should let you . . . um . . . have a chance to . . . relax. I can go sit in the other room.”

  “No, it’s fine. I mean, unless you want to go to bed. To sleep,” he added hastily.

  Nina’s smile pushed warmth toward him, but if she caught the innuendo he hadn’t meant to drop, she didn’t show it. “It’s still early.”

  It was. Night had fallen, as it often did earlier on the island than it seemed to on the mainland. The skies here were almost always overcast. Yet the clock showed that it wasn’t even close to bedtime, at least not if he wanted to be able to fall asleep. Who was he kidding, Ewan thought, watching her. Without Nina naked beside him, he would toss and turn forever.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “I could go over the last batch of files with you, if you want,” Nina said when Ewan didn’t reply. He’d caught her staring, so she made sure to keep her tone light. Casual.

  Inside though, her guts fluttered like she’d swallowed a jarful of moths. Ewan’s hazel eyes glinted in the firelight that cast shadows on his profile. His hair was getting long, she thought, and wished she could lean forward to brush it off his forehead. How would he react if she did? Would he laugh? Would he reach up to grab her hand and push it away?

  Would he pull her closer? Maybe take her in his arms, she thought with a shiver. Maybe he would . . . do nothing. He did nothing, because of course she kept her hands to herself and did not sexually harass her employer.

  He shook his head. “No work talk tonight. We can do that tomorrow. For now, just tell me about yourself, Nina. How are you doing?”

  “I’m . . .” Shiny fine, Nina meant to say. Terrific. Great. Not a care in the world.

  Grateful, she wanted to say. For the place you’ve given me. Work, a roof over my head, food in my belly. Medical care to help me heal.

  Instead, her voice trailed off hesitantly as she stared into the fireplace. “Confused.”

  Ewan had settled into the battered synthleather armchair across from the sofa. He leaned forward now, his glass glimmering with crimson wine. “About what? The files?”

  “Oh, no. The work is hyper easy. Boring, really,” she added with a wry laugh.

  “Boring.” Ewan’s mouth twisted.

  “Sorry, but it’s true.”

  “You don’t have to be sorry, Nina.”

  She drew in a breath and sat back on the couch, trying hard to gather her thoughts. It was easier right now than it was at other times. Sometimes, her mind was full of flighty, slippery ideas, as hard to grasp and hold onto as a fistful of quicksilver minnows. She didn’t know what was worse, knowing that she’d forgotten something important, or being unable to remember that she was constantly forgetting.

  “It’s very repetitive and dull,” Nina explained. “It’s not . . . challenging.”

  The last thing she wanted him to think was that she was unappreciative. A twinge of pain traced a phantom fingertip between her eyes. She wanted to press her hand against it but also did not want to let on that she was hurting. It had become a matter of pride to her that she didn’t complain about the chronic headaches. Doc Zulik had assured her they would fade in time, but Nina had resigned herself to their frequency.

  “I see,” he said.

  “I don’t want to sound like I’m whining about the work, Ewan, please understand that. I know I could be so much worse off. I’m not sure there are many jobs that would let me recover at my own pace without pressure. On a beautiful island and in a gorgeous house, with so much free time, and so little asked of me. It’s more like a vacation than anything. I’m aware of that.”

  “You were injured on the job,” Ewan told her firmly. “I told you in the beginning that your recovery is paramount, and Donahue Enterprises takes full responsibility for your rehab.”

  “Not just Donahue Enterprises. You, personally,” Nina murmured. The words slipped out of her a little hesitantly, not quite on purpose, although she wasn’t trying very hard to hold them back. “You’ve gone above and beyond.”

  “I’ve told you before,” Ewan began, but stopped as though embarrassed to remind her of all the other times he’d had to say the same things, of all the times she’d still had to ask.

  Nina shook her head. She’d asked the docs, as well as Aggie, Jerome, and Ewan, all of them, what had happened to her. How she’d ended up here. They’d all given her the same details, every time she asked . . . all the times that she could remember, anyway. “You can say it. I know I need to be told things over and over again. I know it’s annoying.”

  “No,” he said. “It’s not annoying at all. You ask me however many times you have to. I’ll always make sure to tell you.”

  “That could be a lot of times,” she joked, but didn’t feel like it was very funny. Her breath hitched in her throat. “I mean, it’s enough to annoy my own self, sometimes, how hard it is for me to just hold on to what should be so simple.”

  “It’s not simple at all.”

  She looked into his eyes, able to hold the gaze only for a moment before feeling somehow shy. Vulnerable. “You’re very kind.”

  “I feel responsible for what happened to you, Nina. You were working for me when you were injured. It was my fault.”

  “It’s not like you shoved me over the edge of the cliff.” She meant to tease, but something in the way Ewan’s expression went cold and shuttered set her back a little against the sofa cushions with a horrible thought rising to the front of her mind. Her heart pounded, her pulse a rush-rush throbbing in her ears, and her throat dried. “You didn’t . . . did you?”

  “No. Of course not. God, no.” Ewan got up from his chair to stride to the fireplace. He fiddled with the controls, turning down the flames, his back to her.

  Every muscle in her body had tensed as though she meant to flee at the first sign of aggression from him, but Nina forced herself to breathe that anxiety away. She got off the