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ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
list of what she knew indicated that she was an organized
person, and one who liked to review things in black and white.
Who is Bailey?
A woman who habitually rose at the same hour daily. Did that
make her tedious and predictable, or responsible? She liked
coffee black and strong, scrambled eggs, and her steaks medium
rare. Fairly ordinary tastes. Her body was trim, not particularly
muscular, and without tan lines. So, she wasn't a fitness fanatic
or a sun-worshiper. Perhaps she had a job that kept her indoors.
Which meant, she thought with some humor, she wasn't a
lumberjack or a lifeguard.
She was a right-handed, brown-eyed blonde, and was
reasonably sure her hair color was natural or close to what she'd
been born with.
She knew a great deal about gemstones, which could mean they
were a hobby, a career, or just something she liked to wear. She
had possession of a diamond worth a fortune that she'd either
stolen, bought highly unlikely, she thought or gained through
an accident of some sort.
She'd witnessed a violent attack, possibly a murder, and run
away.
Because that fact made her temple start to throb again, she
skipped over it.
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ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
She hummed classical music in the shower and liked to watch
classic film noir on television. And she couldn't figure out what
that said about her personality or her background.
She liked attractive clothes, good materials, and shied away
from strong colors unless pushed.
It worried her that she might be vain and frivolous.
But she had at least two female friends who shared part of her
life. Grace and M.J., M.J. and Grace. Bailey wrote the names on
the pad, over and over, hoping that the simple repetition would
strike a fresh spark.
They mattered to her, she could feel that. She was frightened
for them and didn't know why. Her mind might be blank, but her
heart told her that they were special to her, closer to her than
anyone else in the world.
But she was afraid to trust her heart.
There was something else she knew that Bailey didn't want to
write down, didn't want to review in black and white.
She'd had no lover. There'd been no one she cared for enough,
or who cared for her enough, for intimacy. Perhaps in the life
she led she'd been too judgmental, too intolerant, too
self-absorbed, to accept a man into her bed.
Or perhaps she'd been too ordinary, too boring, too undesirable,
for a man to accept her into his.
ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
In any case, she had a lover now.
Why hadn't the act of lovemaking seemed foreign to her, or
frightening, as it seemed it would to the uninitiated? Instead,
with Cade, it had been as natural as breathing.
Natural, exciting and perfect.
He said he loved her, but how could she believe it? He knew
only one small piece of her, a fraction of the whole. When her
memory surfaced, he might find her to be the very type of
woman he disliked.
No, she wouldn't hold him to what he'd said to this Bailey, until
she knew the whole woman.
And her feelings? With a half laugh, she set the pencil aside.
She'd been drawn to him instantly, trusted him completely the
moment he took her hand. And fallen in love with him while she
watched him stand in this kitchen, breaking brown eggs into a
white bowl.
But her heart couldn't be trusted in this case, either. The closer
they came to finding the truth, the closer they came to the time
when they might turn from each other and walk away.
However much she wished it, they couldn't leave the canvas
bag and its contents in his safe, forget they existed and just be.
"You forgot some things."
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ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
She jolted, turned her head quickly and looked into his face.
How long, she wondered, had he been standing behind her,
reading her notes over her shoulder, while she was thinking of
him?
"I thought it might help me to write down what I know."
"Always a good plan." He walked to the fridge, took out a beer,
poured her a glass of iced tea.
She sat feeling foolish and awkward, her hands clutched in her
lap. Had they really rolled naked on a sun-washed bed an hour
before? How was such intimacy handled in a tidy kitchen over
cold drinks and puzzles?
He didn't seem to have a problem with it. Cade sat across from
her, propped his feet on an empty chair and scooted her pad
over. "You're a worrier."
"I am?"
"Sure." He flipped a page, started a new list. "You're worrying
right now. What should you say to this guy, now that you're
lovers? Now that you know he's wildly in love with you, wants
to spend the rest of his life with you?"
"Cade "
"Just stating the facts." And if he stated them often enough, he
figured she'd eventually accept them. "The sex was great, and it
ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
was easy. So you worry about that, too. Why did you let this
man you've known for a weekend take you to bed, when you've
never let another man get that close?" His eyes flicked up, held
hers. "The answer's elementary. You're just as wildly in love
with me, but you're afraid to face it."
She picked up her glass, cooled her throat. "I'm a coward?"
"No, Bailey, you're not a coward, but you're constantly worried
that you are. You're a champion worrier. And a woman, I think,
who gives herself very little credit for her strengths, and has
very little tolerance for her weaknesses. Self-judgmental."
He wrote that down, as well, while she frowned at the words on
the page. "It seems to me someone in my situation has to try to
judge herself."
"Practical, logical." He continued the column. "Now, leave the
judging to me a moment. You're compassionate, responsible,
organized. And a creature of habit. I'd say you hold some sort of
position that requires those traits, as well as a good intellect.
Your work habits are disciplined and precise. You also have a
fine aesthetic sense."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Bailey, forgetting who you are doesn't change who you are.
That's your big flaw in reasoning here. If you hated brussels
sprouts before, it's likely you're still going to hate them. If you
were allergic to cats, you're still going to sneeze if you pet a [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]