Let's Make a Baby! Page 10

  “Do you know who I am?” she asked.

  A quick, impatient breath escaped him. “Why don’t you get to the point?”

  Her still-beautiful face projected confusion and vulnerability. Incredibly, she could almost convince him, even now, that she hadn’t a deceitful bone in her body. “I think my name is Lisa Schmidt but I’m not sure. I found your business card in my pocket, and I was hoping I’d talked to you before.”

  “We’ve met,” Ryder said coolly.

  “We have?” She brightened. With that acting ability, she should be the one going to auditions, not Zizi. “Then you know my real name?”

  “You said it was Lisa Schmidt, but you were lying,” he growled.

  “Then you don’t know who I am?”

  “I haven’t got a clue. What’s more, I don’t care.”

  Lisa sagged against the desk. “I’m sorry to be so disorganized. I was in an accident and then I had a rough trip across the country in an old truck. Well, never mind that.”

  Ryder didn’t want to get drawn into her trickery again, but a gentlemanly instinct propelled him around to help her. When he touched her elbow, he realized she was shaking.

  As she collapsed into a chair, he got a disturbing closer look at her injuries. Beneath the makeup, the entire side of Lisa’s face had turned black and blue. The cap rode up to reveal the edge of a thick bandage that didn’t entirely cover a spreading purple bruise. There was no question that she’d been badly knocked around.

  “You need a doctor,” he said.

  “No!” Panic made her rise halfway before dropping back.

  “Why not?”

  “Someone’s trying to kill me,” she whispered.

  “Probably an old boyfriend,” he muttered, and then wished he hadn’t spoken the words aloud.

  “What do you mean?” Panic yielded to curiosity. “Mr. Kelly, do I know you in other than a professional capacity?”

  “Only if you count spending a weekend in bed together.” For once, Ryder was glad his assistant had gone out. He would never have dared be so blunt in her presence.

  “I slept with you?” Two dark eyebrows arched as she regarded him. Speculation colored her gaze as it traversed his body, from his face to his chest and down to the rebelliously awakening region below.

  “I must have made quite an impression,” he growled. “To be forgotten so quickly.”

  “Quickly?” she asked.

  “You walked out on me a few days ago.”

  “Where?”

  “In Colorado,” he said. “Give me a break, Lisa. You can’t have forgotten—”

  “I was at the airport in New York,” she said. “I must have just arrived.”

  “Care to elaborate?” He was glad to see that at least she no longer seemed on the verge of fainting. If she did, he might have to catch her in his arms, an unsettling possibility.

  “A limo, or maybe it was a cab, hit me and the driver ran off,” she said. “My passport, if I had one, disappeared. Anyway, when I woke up in the hospital, the police said the car’s permit turned out to be fake, like my driver’s license.”

  “So we have a virtual cornucopia of bogus documents,” Ryder grumbled. He wished her story didn’t sound convincing, but she had obviously been injured somehow.

  “That’s why they think I might have been hit on purpose,” Lisa said. “They also suspect I might have been involved in something illegal. It’s scary. I can’t remember who I am, or anyone I know, including you.” She studied him again. “You’re sure I walked out on you?”

  “Yes.”

  “We spent how long in bed together?”

  “Two days,” he said.

  “You must know something about me,” she pressed. “How did we meet? Who introduced us? People don’t just jump into—I mean, I don’t think I’m the type to—did I?”

  “You didn’t jump,” he said. “You leaped with great abandon.”

  “That’s awful.” Her eyes peered at him woefully.

  “It wasn’t that awful.”

  “I mean, it’s awful that I don’t remember any of it!”

  Darn it, she’d nearly made him laugh. Ryder didn’t want to like Lisa, or whatever this woman’s name was. He ought to stay mad at her. Underneath, he knew he was being played for a fool all over again. But her tactics made even less sense now than they had at the chalet.

  “Let me see if I’m following this,” he said. “You got creamed by a cab and landed in the hospital. The police said you were in danger, so naturally you checked right out—”

  “Sneaked out,” Lisa said.

  “The hospital didn’t release you?”

  “I’m not even sure they ever admitted me. At least, not properly, since they don’t know who I am.” She frowned. “I seem to know a few things about hospitals.”

  “You used to work in one,” he said.

  “I’m a nurse?”

  “Volunteer work. You’re a rich girl, or so you appeared to be.”

  She took a moment to digest that idea. “Maybe you should take me shopping and see if I naturally veer toward the expensive labels.”

  That did make him laugh. “I can’t believe you’re joking at a time like this.”

  “Neither can I.” Her ironic smile set his sucker of a heart to waltzing. “I guess this sounds odd, but I’ve got about fifteen hundred dollars left, and I’ll pay you to find out who I am.”

  “If you spend all your money on me, what are you going to live on? This could take a while.” Then he remembered Zizi’s mention of a phone call that might provide a clue. “Have you ever heard of International Substrate Inc.?”

  She stretched her long, slender legs. “I don’t know.”

  “Do you have any friends from Canada?”

  “I wish I knew whether I had any friends, period.”

  He cast about for other possibilities. “Your license indicated you were Swiss. What languages do you speak, other than English?”

  Her forehead wrinkled. “I’m not sure. Oh, Spanish! I used that with the people who helped me travel here.”

  Ryder decided to let that remark pass. He had no interest in her odd travel arrangements. “Let’s try French. Can you say ‘I love you’?”

  “Je t’aime.”

  “How about German?”

  “Ich liebe dich.” She said it in two more languages that he didn’t recognize but which she claimed were Dutch and Russian.

  “Do you actually speak those languages?” he asked.

  “I have no idea,” she admitted. “Maybe I just like to tell people I love them. Do you want me to try other phrases?”

  This conversation might be entertaining, but it had gone far enough. “I have a better idea. Keep your money. I can’t help you.”

  Tears glittered. “Mr. Kelly—I guess I should call you Ryder, considering what we’ve been to each other, shouldn’t I? I’m sorry for the way I behaved. I honestly don’t understand it. I don’t even know what kind of person I am, or was. But please, you’re the only one I can turn to.”

  Ryder hadn’t survived the hard knocks of the Marine Corps and the tough work of a rookie cop to be wrapped around the finger of a woman who’d already treated him like dirt. On the other hand, what if she really were in danger? People who traveled with false documents and plenty of cash generally kept risky company. Maybe she was a courier who’d run afoul of a criminal organization. Maybe she’d fallen for Ryder and had left him for his own good.

  Yeah, sure. And pigs could fly.

  Yet he couldn’t bring himself to throw her out. If she suffered further harm, he would never forgive himself.

  The thought of harm reminded him that he was supposed to be searching for Ginger Callas. Which inspired an idea of how this woman might make herself useful.

  “How would you like to spend the rest of the week working at the beach?” he asked.

  *

  “You press this key and the register figures the sales tax,” said the tattooed man at the coun
ter. “Do you remember everything I’ve told you?”

  “Sure.” Lisa hoped she did. Fortunately, there didn’t appear to be anything wrong with her memory concerning the present.

  “The instructions are right under here.” The shop owner indicated a shelf beneath the front counter. “In case you need a refresher.”

  “She might not, Biff, but I will,” Ryder remarked from where he stood.

  “You aren’t supposed to be working the register,” his friend pointed out. “You’re supposed to be bringing in new business.”

  Lisa followed his gaze out the open doorway of the small shop. The vista of beach and ocean was lovely, if utterly strange to her. On the other hand, she might have lived here all her life and not recognize it.

  “We’ll be in the back room designing an advertising flyer.” Ryder’s brown eyes searched her face as if assessing her soul. “Do you feel okay sitting here by yourself?”

  “Sure,” she said. Except for having no idea where I fit in or how I could treat a gorgeous man like you so badly.

  “Not dizzy?”

  “Not anymore.”

  Since he’d insisted that she eat lunch and take a quick shower in the bathroom at his office, Lisa felt stronger. It pleased her that she was recovering from her accident. She’d hate to be a burden. “I hope I won’t hurt your business, Biff.”

  “Are you kidding?” Pushing back a strand of bleached blond hair, he regarded her admiringly. “Car crash or not, with a chick like you at the counter, I’ll have half the surfers in Beachside coming in to shoot the breeze.”

  “Shoot the breeze?” She wasn’t sure about that phrase. “Does that mean I’m supposed to give sailing lessons?”

  Biff guffawed. “Not hardly.”

  “It means you’re supposed to look pretty and pretend the surfers are saying something intelligent,” grumbled Ryder. “Which isn’t likely.”

  “Someone wouldn’t be jealous, would he?” Biff teased.

  “Why don’t you help me put a flyer together and spare me the psychoanalysis?” returned the detective, and led the way to the back.

  Alone, Lisa balanced on a stool behind the counter and took her bearings. Late-afternoon sunshine flowed through the tinted front window and mingled with fluorescent light to soften the Hawaiian colors of swimwear and souvenir towels. Racks of surfboards, skateboards, body boards and shiny black wet suits lined the walls. Toward the center of the shop, tiered shelves offered goods from suntan lotion to goggles. A glass case by the register featured underwater watches and other small devices.

  The scent of brine hung in the air, and seagull cries punctuated the lazy hum of the ocean. On the sidewalk outside, two children stood supporting their bicycles while they licked ice cream cones. For the first time since she’d awakened at the hospital, Lisa discovered a sense of peace.

  It might be due to the serenity of her surroundings, but it had something to do with Ryder, too. Even if he hadn’t told her that they knew each other, she would have sensed it. Or perhaps she’d simply recognized instantly, when he emerged from his inner office, that she wanted to know him.

  She liked his muscular chest and shoulders, well-developed but not bulky. His movements revealed alert self-control, as if he were always poised for action. His short brown hair seemed in need of rumpling, and his mouth curved endearingly when anything amused him. How frustrating not to remember how it felt to sleep with the man! She couldn’t imagine why she had left him.

  Two girls of about twelve wandered in, barefoot and glistening with suntan oil. They poked along one shelf, examining the lip gloss. Could one of them be Ginger Callas? They looked too young to fit Ryder’s description of the runaway, and neither was a redhead, but perhaps they’d seen her.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  The shorter of the pair glanced up. “Hey, what happened to you? Run into a door?”

  “Car accident,” Lisa said.

  “Don’t mind Buffy,” said her companion. “Aren’t you awfully hot in that sweater?” She herself wore a racing-striped swimsuit with cutouts at the waist.

  “All Starr ever thinks about is clothes,” explained Buffy, who wore an orange stretch top over a purple bikini bottom.

  “I just got into town,” Lisa explained. “I’m helping a friend for a few days. My wardrobe’s a little on the warm side.”

  “You oughta try one of those sarongs.” Starr indicated a rack of flowered swimsuit cover-ups. Buffy scrutinized Lisa again. “What kind of car accident? Were you driving?”

  “No, I was walking.” Lisa tried to imitate their loose-jawed manner of speech. “In the wrong place at the wrong time, obviously.”

  That apparently satisfied Buffy, because she moved on to a new topic. “Where are you from? Like, Hawaii or something? Or maybe Italy? You look like you should be named Leilani or maybe Sophia.”

  “It’s Lisa. And I’m not from anywhere special.”

  Starr handed her a camouflage-print hat with a brim. “You could wear this instead of that knit thing.”

  “Thanks, but I’m afraid it would clash with a sarong.” Lisa decided that she could afford to buy a few new clothes, since Ryder had offered her a place to stay rent-free. “By the way, I’m supposed to meet a girl named Ginger, but I can’t find her. She has curly reddish blond hair. Have you seen her?”

  “Could be anybody.” Starr stared in dismay as Ryder emerged from the back room. “Who’s that?”

  “Oh, he’s doing some promotional work for the store,” Lisa said.

  “He looks like a cop.” Her companion backed toward the door.

  “See ya,” said Starr.

  Ryder watched them go. “I seem to have that effect on people around here. Learn anything useful?”

  “That I need new clothes.”

  “Twenty-percent discount for employees,” Biff said as he emerged behind Ryder.

  Eyeing the rack, Lisa decided to heed the girls’ suggestion. Tomorrow, she would pick out a wraparound dress, even though it would bare her bruised shoulder. At least the flowered pattern might draw attention away from her injuries, and it would be a lot cooler than what she was wearing. “I gave them Ginger’s description. Maybe they’ll spot her.”

  Ryder regarded her appreciatively. “You got through to them right off. One glance at me and they couldn’t get out of here fast enough.”

  “That’s because you look like a narc.” Biff tossed him a package of stick-on tattoos. “Use these. There’s a shop down the block where you can buy ragged cutoffs and baggy T-shirts.”

  “Then will I fit in?” Ryder asked dubiously.

  “No. You’ll look like a narc who’s trying to be one of the crowd,” said his friend.

  “Thanks a bunch.” Tugging his suit jacket into place, Ryder helped Lisa down from the stool. “We’ll be back in the morning.”

  Biff provided a key and the combination to the security alarm. “Here’s my phone number, if you have any questions.”

  “Thanks. I will,” Lisa said.

  “I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Ryder spoke at the same time.

  “You, my friend, can be fine, and Lisa can call me,” Biff said. “Anytime.” He winked, then ducked playfully as if dodging a blow.

  When they were outside, Lisa asked, “Was he flirting with me?”

  “You might say that.” Ryder squinted at the throng of bodies spread across the sand.

  “Why would he bother?” Lisa asked. “I’m a mess.”

  Ryder sidestepped a stroller. He favored his right leg slightly, as if it were sore. “Yes, but you’re a gorgeous mess.”

  “Uh....thanks.” In view of the fact that she’d apparently mistreated him, she was surprised he would compliment her. In any case, she didn’t feel beautiful. She felt battered and sore and tired. “Would you mind if I took a nap?”

  Ryder glanced at his watch. “It’s after five. Let’s head home.”

  They passed a sign announcing Fortunes Told Here. A white-haired man in
a toga stood in front, eyes half-shut, chanting a mantra. “What’s he doing?”

  “Acting normal, for him, I would guess,” Ryder said. “The beach is a natural refuge for weirdos.”

  “Why does he wear a toga?”

  “How do you know it’s a toga when you don’t remember your own name?” he challenged.

  “I remember a lot of things,” Lisa explained as they reached the parking lot. “That sarongs come from Pacific islands and togas from Rome. But not where I’m from.”

  “It’s hard for me to believe this isn’t a trick.” Ryder unlocked his blue sedan, reached in and removed a sunshade that had covered the windshield. “About losing your memory.”

  “I’m not sure I want it back,” she admitted. “It sounds as if I wasn’t a very nice person.”

  “You weren’t, to me.” He waited until she got in the passenger seat and fastened her belt before starting the engine. “I can’t say how you treated other people.”

  “It’s possible I made somebody want to kill me,” she said.

  Ryder glanced around uneasily. “Lisa, I can’t guarantee your safety, especially not while I’m out looking for Ginger.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t worry. I feel safe just being near you.” Oh, dear, that sounded smarmy, didn’t it? But she meant it.

  His troubled expression told her that he hadn’t forgiven her earlier actions, yet his behavior toward her today had been protective. Now he was taking her to his apartment, where he’d offered the use of a couch.

  Lisa wasn’t sure how safe she’d be there—from him. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be.

  Chapter Nine

  I am, Ryder thought, the greatest fool who ever walked the earth. Lisa had dozed off in an easy chair while he broiled pieces of chicken and fixed rice pilaf and a salad. Now, beneath his gaze, she lay sleeping peacefully, dark lashes trembling against her cheek.

  Her presence in his apartment changed its dimensions, its atmosphere, even the way the light fell through the blinds. The dark hair fanning around her face and the colorful ski sweater contrasted vividly with his white walls and tan furnishings.