Deja Vu (Titan World Book 0) Page 3

  “If you’re here, you’re going to have to drink.” She left him to his inspection as she padded away to get a glass from the dining room hutch.

  “Really. I’m fine.”

  Having returned, she held his glass to her chest as if she were guarding it against what he might say next. “I’m not drinking by myself when you’re here, and I don’t want to ignore my wine. You have two options: leave or have a glass of wine.”

  “You shouldn’t even be drinking right now.” He stalled. Alcohol would lessen his ability to think clearly around her, and with this woman, he needed all his faculties. “Doctor’s orders. You know that.”

  “I know there’s a choice on the table, Doctor.”

  But all he could think about was the swell of her breasts as she held the glass. “Allie—”

  “I can’t remember. I hate this. I just, I don’t know.” She dropped her head and let the wine glass slip away from her chest and dangle haphazardly in her hand. “Sorry. You must think I’m crazy. Once again.”

  Her pedicured toes wiggled as she stared hopelessly at them. To reach for memories while in recovery, only to be told they weren’t true when in fact they were, was a true mind fuck. Very much the style of the CIA.

  He stepped closer, partially drawn by the light scent of her perfume and partially by the need to help her. The damn doctor in him wanted to alleviate her pain. How screwed up was that when he knew more than he could share, and it was destroying her? “I’ll have a glass.”

  Her face perked up. “Good answer.”

  Allie poured his glass and topped hers off.

  “Join me on the couch?” he asked, eyeing the wraparound living room.

  She laughed. “Seems like I should invite you. They’re my couches and all.”

  “Are they?” He teased, and her mood lifted back to where it had been. “Come on.” He took both their glasses as they made their way to the couch as if they were old friends.

  She threw herself onto the overstuffed leather couch and, a minute later, rubbed her face. “I needed to laugh. I felt like me for a second. I do when you’re near me.”

  “Happy to help.” That was like saying he was okay with breathing. There wasn’t another place he would rather be.

  CHAPTER SIX

  James let the realization of how deep he might be for a woman he hadn’t kissed sink in. She was CIA trained. Maybe he had made a miscalculation along the way—

  Allie gulped two big sips. “When did we get engaged?”

  “Whoa, Allie,” James said. “I am positive your brain trauma specialist told you that alcohol wasn’t a great idea to begin with. But sloshing it down like that? Not a great idea.”

  She gave him the side eye over the brim of her wine glass. “Did you come over here to be my doctor?”

  Not at all. “But I am a doctor.”

  “So, you must say something?” she asked, teasing him with a pretend sip of wine.

  He nodded, feeling the warmth of her playfulness hit him. This had nothing to do with her being CIA trained; Allie was giving him the real deal. One hundred percent honesty. Which was more than he could say about himself at the moment.

  “Do you always have to tell the truth to your patients?”

  “Sure—”

  “You know something more than you’re letting on. Right?”

  Shit. Walked into that one. “Allie—”

  “Why don’t you start by telling me what nobody wants to tell me?” She pressed her lips into a thin, flat line that reminded him of a flatline on an electrocardiogram. This conversation needed to die. “Because I know I sound like an insane crazy person. I know I sound delusional. But I also know that I’m not. Because if I was, I’d probably be locked up somewhere. I would have a medical history full of mental illness. But I don’t. And I know that someone like you wouldn’t have said we were engaged.”

  Or he could resuscitate the conversation by changing directions. “Like me, how?”

  She went for a sip of wine but turned her head at the last moment and set her glass on the coffee table. “Perfect. Organized. I bet your house might even look like this. Like you walked out on a regular day, when you didn’t expect anyone to see it, and it was pristine.”

  “It’s not.”

  She raised a judging eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Well…” He took a seat on the other side of the couch. “Everything has a place.”

  “Even the random, unorganized crap looks placed there on purpose.”

  “You’re analyzing the hell out of little details.”

  Both of her eyebrows arched high as though they wanted to jump off her forehead and shake him for being intentionally obtuse. “Wouldn’t you, if memories were just a fingertip’s distance away, yet…”

  Yes, he would. “I’m not sure.”

  “Bullshit, James. And you know it.”

  “Allie—”

  “My calendar goes back three years, and it’s perfect. Perfect! No mistakes. No errors. No missed appointments. My emails? They’re so boring! The small talk in them is enough to make somebody lose their mind. I didn’t write that. Nobody would write that. Who was I talking to? Who are these people that I was conversing with? There’s no style. There’s no voice. It sounds like somebody wrote emails to themselves back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, and then put them in my email box. It’s a patchwork of perfect names, a correct proportion of female-to-male conversations, a joke over the course of a few years. But it’s mass-produced junk. Filler.”

  “Well… maybe the new you is more… hungry for different experiences?”

  Allie mouthed O-M-G. “I’m a marketing person who never left my house. I had online conversations and apparently one friend. Beth. Her emails don’t even sound like her.”

  That sounded as though some entry-level CIA desk jockey had typed out three years of correspondence for a marketing person and then made a fake email history. She might’ve forgotten her life, and the Farm boys might have been working on an extraordinarily tight deadline, but Allie wasn’t stupid. Why hadn’t they killed her?

  “I’m going to figure it out,” Allie whispered as though he wasn’t meant to hear.

  He contained his uneasy grimace. Not that he didn’t want her investigating, but he genuinely was concerned for her life if she did.

  “Maybe you just work with boring people.” He burrowed deep against the comfortable couch.

  “My Internet history is ridiculous. It’s strictly work, a few recipes, and the weather.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t see the problem.”

  “Exactly. That’s the problem. Everything is so clean. So perfect. Have you ever heard that unsaid rule—or maybe it’s just something said between girlfriends. Except I apparently have none other than Beth—that if I die, go to my house and go find my vibrator and clean out my browser history before my mom does? It’s the job of a best friend.”

  Awkwardness and red-hot heat crawled up his neck. “Maybe Beth did that?”

  Allie grinned, maybe noticing that she put him in the world’s most uncomfortable of places, seeing as he wanted to be a damn gentleman. “I’m being serious. There isn’t even a vibrator here!”

  Alright already! A thousand inappropriate thoughts sent fire blazing and getting an erection wouldn’t be a smart move, but holy hell. “But—”

  “Pull up your Google history.” She reached for his phone. “Tell me what the last things were you asked Siri about.”

  James batted her hand away. “Patient confidentiality.”

  That and he didn’t know what he’d been searching or Googling for the last few weeks. He couldn’t remember the last few things he had asked Siri, but he probably wanted to review it before he showed Allie.

  “See?” She inched forward, motioning to his phone. “You could show me non-work things, but you’re hesitating.”

  “All right, point made. Not that there’s anything questionable on my phone. But I understand what you’re saying.”


  She settled back against the couch and reached for the wine but apparently decided against it. “I can dig down three levels”—she threw her hands in the air—“and then that’s it.”

  It wasn’t fair that he could partake and she couldn’t, but hell. Vibrators—2, James—0. He took a hearty drink of his wine.

  The old Allie was scratching at the surface, roaring to get out. Nobody except a trained operative would have pulled those things together, especially while in recovery. It was just that simple.

  He put down his glass. “What is it that you need from me? Besides the information that you think I have. What can I do to make any of this better?”

  Allie stared at him, and the seconds felt like centuries. “I have no idea.”

  His heart shattered. She could grasp the straws but didn’t know how to make the connections.

  “If this was my boring, sucky life”—she tilted her head around the room despondently—“maybe I should try to get used to it.”

  “Allie.” His throat ached. So did his heart.

  Finally, her searching gaze stopped on the television. “Do you want to watch a movie with me? Ex-fiancé and all, but I’d like somebody to lean against and watch a movie with. No more doctor-patient weirdness, right?”

  There was her blush again. The strong operative transformed into the cute woman when she made a move. She could talk about sex toys without batting an eyelash, but inviting him for a movie was almost too much. Too bad there was a reason he should say no: he was lying to her about everything.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Why did a movie sound like crossing a line when so many had been crossed already? Leaving would have been best, maybe for both of them. Because for how attracted he was to her and how much he wanted to care for her, help her… he couldn’t. James never made time for relationships, yet here he was. He’d made a leap of faith for Allie and put his licensure at risk along with his standing with the Agency. He didn’t want to leave at all.

  “Or you can go.” Allie laughed with a downplaying grin. “I’ll even pack you some cold pizza for the road.”

  He wasn’t going anywhere. “A movie works. See if one piques your interest, and maybe it will help with your memory.” Or not… The unsolicited advice came out automatically. He needed to shut up any time now.

  Her face fell. “Thought you weren’t here as my doctor.”

  “I’m not.” James ran his hand along her arm and watched goose bumps pop up. “Go pick a movie.”

  “Right,” Allie whispered. “Maybe a movie will help my memory.”

  “How about this? I’ll find something in the movie to relate to me. Silly first date talk. That way, it’s nothing like doctor’s orders. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  She pushed off the couch, and he let his fingers drift over her as she pulled away. Allie walked to the wall and pulled open a shelf, running her finger along DVD jackets. “Rom-com. Comedy.” She shook her head. “I feel like I would totally be into some action-adventure movies. I feel like that would be me.” She turned. “Would my taste in movies be forgotten?”

  Not really… “Thought I wasn’t here as your doctor tonight.”

  “Oh, brother. Walked into that one.” She turned back and grabbed a movie. “Comedy it is. I won’t torture you with anything too romantic. I feel like I’ve tortured you enough.”

  The woman had no idea. The torture was just beginning. Having her curled up next to him for the duration of a movie would be tough. Pseudo first date or not, he was still a gentleman. Even if he had to keep repeating mental reminders.

  Allie grabbed a blanket and took a seat next to James, doing the agonizing thing of sitting far too close to him—and she smelled like an angel. Like vanilla. Allie, the angel. Shit, he was losing his mind. The two of them could be mindless together.

  ***

  Allie couldn’t breathe when James tossed his arm over the back of the couch. God, it was too much to take, but he was not nearly close enough. She loved the high-flying feeling of raw attraction. A shiver burst over her skin at the memory, or actually lack thereof. She’d never felt like this before—of that, she was certain.

  “What should I expect? Meg Ryan?” He settled back and relaxed while she pressed Play and pulled the blanket over her lap, building a line of demarcation. If they didn’t cross it, there would be no problems. She’d apparently not had enough wine before he arrived to brave moving an inch closer.

  “I promised no rom-com. Have no worries.”

  James smelled shower-fresh, unlike the scrubbed-doctor scent from the hospital. Oh God, not that she’d been smelling him.

  His chuckle burst out. “Okay, I didn’t expect to really laugh at this.”

  She’d totally missed it! Lost in her head about—

  “Come here.” He dropped his arm around her shoulders and ignored the blanket fortress she’d built. “Get out of your head.”

  “I’m not in my head.” But the protest was an obvious lie.

  “Allie.” His voice dropped low, and she let him tug her under his arm, snuggling her into place against his side. “If you’re not going to watch the movie, what is it that you want?”

  “I can’t tell you,” she whispered.

  A funny exchange happened in the movie, but this time, he didn’t laugh. His eyes were focused on her, and his arm around her shoulders made her heart slam against her ribcage.

  “You didn’t laugh this time,” she pointed out.

  “Wasn’t paying attention to the movie,” he said.

  Oh God. With her heartbeat on speed, now her lungs had declared war on breathing. “Maybe the movie was a bad idea.”

  He dropped his head close to hers. The warmth of his lips brushed against hers. Her mouth watered for his kiss, and her body liquefied. Begging would be poor form, but the anticipation might be her death. “Please” was about to form as a pout on her lips, when James let their distance evaporate.

  Ah, the fireworks. Her pliant lips molded to his as he slipped his tongue into her mouth, teasing a moan from the depths of her. Her lungs had kick-started back to work, but she couldn’t get enough oxygen to avoid the lightheadedness. Wet between her legs, nipples aching for his touch, Allie was drunk on him, and that was just a first kiss. Just the best kiss of her life. She didn’t care that she couldn’t remember another man. Some things, she just knew.

  He groaned. His arm became a vise, wrapping around her shoulders. James shifted her onto his thigh. A heat broke out across her skin, a deep awareness that this was one of those kisses that ended in orgasms.

  Allie wanted him inside her. She wanted her breasts in his hands and his tongue in her mouth as she came on his cock. Her hungry hands found his shirt, tugging it, needing him desperately.

  “Wait.” James gasped and grabbed her arm. “I don’t know that you should do that, Allie.”

  “You don’t want me?” she pressed, knowing he felt everything she did. Whatever her previous life was, she knew she could read people. And what she could read loud and clear between them was red-hot chemistry.

  “Maybe you need time.” The pained expression on his face didn’t lessen the fact that she could feel his erection. “We should slow down.”

  She tightened her fingers into a hell-no grip on his shirt, letting them scratch his abdomen muscles in the process. James’s hungry eyes dropped.

  Allie whispered against his cheek. “I’m sick of everyone telling me what’s best for me. If you don’t want me, then say that.” Because being under his arm like this was like a memory she wanted to have but hadn’t experienced yet. Everything was as it should have been, and she couldn’t explain it. “But I need you.”

  James ran his strong fingers along her back, and every inch of her skin rejoiced. His other hand cupped her cheek, his thumb drifting over her flesh as if he were savoring the experience. If he didn’t kiss her again, didn’t take her to bed, her tears would fall again, and—

  James stole her breath with a sweet kis
s. “Such an angel.”

  He feathered another kiss that went straight to her heart, which made no sense, but she didn’t care. Every moment since she’d woken, she’d had to be strong. But right now? She could be as fragile as an eggshell, and he would take care of her.

  “James…” Everything she needed was in the breath of that kiss. Maybe they had been lovers in another life, because the earthquake of a man holding her close rocked her world before they’d even made love.

  His warm breath sent her into a mind-melding abyss. “Yes?”

  “We’re on the same page?” Her words were intermixed with deep kisses.

  James slipped his palms under her sweatshirt in an answer, and as his skin made contact with her waist, she knew they weren’t getting off that couch… at least not anytime soon.

  “Good.” Shrugging out of the sweatshirt for him, she let it fall to the ground.

  “You’re beautiful, angel.” He laid her on the couch, catching her off guard.

  With James over top of her, she lost her thought. Her mind had been such a traitorous bitch.

  “You’re the only one I believe.”

  Feeling guilty, James shifted his gaze. “Allie…”

  “Please look at me.”

  He brought his face back. “Angel, there’s something in your past, and neither of us knows exactly what it is.”

  She wanted to cry but wouldn’t waste their moment. “I trust your kisses and believe in your smiles. The only thing I want is for you to make love to me.”

  With a look that was as solemn as a vow, James slowly stripped off her sweatpants and unfastened her bra until she lay under him in only her panties.

  He stripped away his shirt, displaying toned muscles. His biceps were heavy and matched strong forearms. Her healing fingertips touched his chest hair as James worked down her neck, kissing softly and letting his hands explore her swollen breasts as she melted under him. He paid attention to the slope of her collarbone, whispering how she tasted as heavenly as she smelled.