Trusting A Texan (Try to Remember) Read online

  The feel of Rafe’s chest under April’s cheek gave her a sense of peace and being cared for.

  Letter to Reader

  Title Page

  Books by Leann Harris

  LEANN HARRIS

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  Copyright

  The feel of Rafe’s chest under April’s cheek gave her a sense of peace and being cared for.

  But what was even wilder than that thought was the idea that whatever evil lingered in her past couldn’t harm her while she was guarded by this Texas Ranger. The terror of her nightmare had vanished the instant he had taken her into his arms.

  Although he had reluctantly told her about his family, she wanted to know more about him. What was his favorite food? What kind of music did he like? What was his ex-wife like? How long had he been divorced? And why wasn’t there a woman with him now?

  Considering April had no memory, she ought to be wondering about her own past. Instead she was obsessing about Rafe’s. She needed to think about something else besides how attracted she was to a certain Texas Ranger.

  Dear Reader,

  This is it, the final month of our wonderful three-month celebration of Intimate Moments’ fifteenth anniversary. It’s been quite a ride, but it’s not over yet. For one thing, look who’s leading off the month: Rachel Lee, with Cowboy Comes Home, the latest fabulous title in her irresistible CONARD COUNTY miniseries. This one has everything you could possibly want in a book, including all the deep emotion Rachel is known for. Don’t miss it.

  And the rest of the month lives up to that wonderful beginning, with books from both old favorites and new names sure to become favorites. Merline Lovelace’s Return to Sender will have you longing to work at the post office (I’m not kidding!), while Marilyn Tracy returns to the wonderful (but fictional, dam it!) town of Almost, Texas, with Almost Remembered. Look for our TRY TO REMEMBER flash to guide you to Leann Harris’s Trusting a Texan, a terrific amnesia book, and the EXPECTANTLY YOURS flash marking Raina Lynn’s second book, Partners in Parenthood. And finally, don’t miss A Hard-Hearted Man, by brand-new author Melanie Craft. Your heart will melt—guaranteed.

  And that’s not all. Because we’re not stopping with the fifteen years behind us. There are that many—and more!—in our future, and I know you’ll want to be here for every one. So come back next month, when the excitement and the passion continue, right here in Silhouette Intimate Moments.

  Yours,

  Leslie J. Wainger

  Executive Senior Editor

  Please address questions and book requests to:

  Silhouette Reader Service

  U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

  Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

  TRUSTING A TEXAN

  LEANN HARRIS

  Books by Leann Harris

  Silhouette Intimate Moments

  Bride on the Run #516

  Angel at Risk #618

  Trouble in Texas #664

  Undercover Husband #719

  Temporary Marriage #821

  Trusting a Texan #868

  LEANN HARRIS

  When Leann Hams first met her husband in college, she never dreamed she would marry him. After all, he was getting a Ph.D. in the one science she’d managed to avoid—physics! So much for first impressions. They have been happily married for twenty-one years. After graduating from the University of Texas at Austin, Leann taught math and science to deaf high school students until the birth of her first child. It wasn’t until her youngest child started school that Leann decided to fulfill a lifelong dream and began writing. She presently lives in Piano, Texas, with her husband and two children.

  I would like to thank the following people for their help

  and expertise. Any errors are mine.

  Theresa McKinely Zumwalt, for her knowledge of

  West Texas, Rangers, horses and ranching.

  Lieutenant Dave Davis, for his help with missing persons

  reports and other police-related matters.

  Dr. David Pate, for his help in treating a leg wound.

  Chapter 1

  Rafael Sanchez pushed back his Stetson, stood in the stirrups of his saddle, and surveyed the valley below him. The air smelled fresh and clean after the morning downpour. But the spring shower had brought several flash floods with it, and Rafe was riding the range to check on his cattle.

  A sound like a moan was carried on the wind. Rafe went still and carefully studied the land around him. A small patch of yellow by the highway caught his eye and Rafe wondered if that was the source of the sound. There were no bushes or flowers blooming this time of year that could account for the color.

  He guided his mount down the rocky hill. As he got closer, he was able to make out that the telltale yellow was a piece of cloth. He glanced around the horizon to see if there was anything else that seemed out of place.

  Nothing.

  A chill raced over Rafe’s skin that had nothing to do with the wind. Something was wrong.

  When he realized the yellow material covered a body—a woman’s—he hurried his horse’s descent and dismounted a few feet away. She was lying face down, and he couldn’t see her face. As he approached, he noticed her blonde hair—almost as golden as the jacket—spread out against the rock.

  She moaned.

  “Hello,” Rafe said, kneeling beside her. “Miss, are you hurt?” He reached out and lightly touched her shoulder. “Miss?”

  She opened her eyes and tried to look at him. Then her eyes fluttered closed and a grimace of pain crossed her face. She tried to roll onto her back, but another moan escaped her mouth and she rested her forehead again on the ground.

  “Don’t move,” he warned, then stood, walked to his horse, and unhooked his canteen. Untying the bandanna around his neck, he wet it. His rough fingers touched her cheek as he wiped the cloth over her skin. She grabbed his wrist and guided it toward her temple. He couldn’t see the area since it was next to the ground, but under his fingers Rafe felt a lump.

  Her eyes fluttered open. “Thank you.” She tried to move again. This time Rafe helped her roll over onto her back. He wasn’t prepared for the beautiful face that greeted him. She was the type of woman who made men stop and look a second time, and then fantasize. Definitely not politically correct, but a man would have to be dead not to notice her, not to be tempted to fantasize about her. And he wasn’t dead by a long stretch.

  He lifted his bandanna and saw the dark welt with several tracks of blood that had run down the side of her face. He lightly wiped away the blood.

  “Do you hurt anywhere else beside your head?” he asked.

  A puzzled frown crossed her face. “I don’t think so.”

  Rafe’s gaze met hers. “Let me check.” He waited for her permission.

  “Okay.”

  He moved his hands over her arms and legs, ignoring the wet fabric, looking for any other injuries, but found nothing until he got to her left ankle. When his fingers touched it, a gasp escaped her mouth.

  “Sorry,” he said, looking at her. In her eyes he could see the pain. Carefully, and with the lightest of touches, he ran his fingers back over the ankle. “It looks as if you’ve hurt your ankle pretty bad. I don’t know if it’s broken, but I’ll take you to the doctor
and make sure.”

  He sat back on his haunches and pointed to her head. “Besides, you need the doc to take a look at your head.”

  She nodded, then bit her lip. Rafe didn’t wait for a response, but handed the bandanna to her and then stood.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, a hint of panic in her voice.

  He squatted, bringing his face level with hers again, and took off his Stetson so she would feel more comfortable with him. “I plan to put you on my horse. But it will be easier on both of us if I bring him to you instead of the other way around.”

  “Oh.”

  He nodded, put his hat back on, then fetched his horse from where he’d left him. Bending down, he slid his antics around her back and under her knees, and stood. Her body slipped in his arms, and he had to readjust his hold on her. She grimaced in pain. “Sorry,” he whispered.

  She gave him an anemic smile.

  “Put your arms around my neck,” he commanded her. And she complied.

  Rafe lifted her to the saddle. With one hand on the saddle horn and the other wrapped around her waist, he slipped his boot in the stirrup and hauled himself up, lifting her slightly so he could slide into the saddle beneath her. He readjusted her in his lap, being careful not to bump her ankle. “Are you comfortable?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  Damn, he wished he were. His body had suddenly sprung to life at the feel of her bottom fitting snugly against him. He was a professional lawman, for Pete’s sake, trying to help this woman. So why was his body acting like a youth’s with his hormones raging out of control?

  Rafe turned his horse and started up the hill. The angle forced the woman against him and he felt every inch of her wet, lovely body molded to his, adding to his awareness of her. As if he needed reminding.

  From the condition of her clothes and hair, it was obvious that she’d been caught out in the storm. A shiver ran through her. He slid his arm around her waist, trying to offer what warmth he could.

  “I’ll get you wet,” she protested weakly.

  “Don’t worry. When I get you back to the ranch, I’ll get you some dry clothes before I take you to see the doctor.”

  “Th-that sounds wonderful.”

  His mind kept drifting to the feel of her against him. Finally, when his brain kicked into gear, he asked, “How did you manage to get yourself caught in the flash flood we had this morning?”

  She threw him a puzzled frown. “What?”

  “What were you doing out in the storm? And how did you get out to this remote area?” He looked over the rugged land that he called home. “I didn’t see a car or a horse anywhere near where I found you.”

  She remained quiet for a minute, then bit her lip. “I don’t remember.”

  Goose bumps raced over his skin. “What do you mean, you don’t remember?” His voice sounded harsher than he intended.

  Her gaze met his and her growing panic was clearly reflected in her green eyes. “I mean, I don’t know what I was doing out there this morning.”

  Rafe’s first reaction was to yell what did she mean she didn’t know. It wouldn’t do her or him any good if he scared her witless. “Well,” he said, swallowing his uneasiness, “tell me what you remember and we’ll go from there.”

  She stared out at the horizon. He watched her teeth worry her full bottom lip. His body tightened at the sight.

  “What were you doing out this morning?” he asked, hoping his gentle questioning would jog her memory. “Did you come on foot or did you have a horse or car stashed someplace close by?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t remember.” Shyly, she glanced at him.

  Rafe didn’t like the direction this conversation was moving. “What do you remember?”

  She closed her eyes and her brow furrowed in a frown. “Nothing.” There was panic in her voice.

  “Nothing?”

  Her bottom lip quivered. “Everything’s a blank...before I woke up and saw you.”

  The image of his being her only memory burned in his brain. “A hell of a thing to have as your only memory.” A deep laugh rumbled in his chest.

  Her gaze locked with his and a jolt of electricity arced between them. He glanced away and fixed his eyes on the hills before them. He had found a woman, nearly drowned, bum ankle, and no memory—and suddenly his body wanted hers. His timing was really rotten. So what else was new?

  It took a good fifteen minutes to cover the ground between where he found her by the highway and the ranch house. When they rode into his yard, a sigh of relief escaped her lips. Her teeth were chattering and her body shook. He slipped off the horse, then gathered her into his arms.

  “You have a l-lovely home,” she commented as he climbed the steps to the porch.

  “Thanks.” Rafe was proud of the ranch house that his great-uncle had built. Successive generations had added to the rambling house and updated it. In his great-uncle’s den there were pictures of the cavalry unit to which he had belonged. There was also a computer hooked up to the Internet, a laser printer, and a fax machine. Rafe might live out in the Llano Estacado, miles away from any civilization, but he was still in touch with the modern world. He had to be when he was working for the Texas Rangers.

  Stopping before the screen door, he waited. “My hands are kinda full,” he finally said. “You want to open the door for us?”

  “Oh.” She grasped the handle and pulled it open. Rafe shouldered the screen further open, then waited for her to open the wooden door. It swung into the building. Going directly to the bathroom, he eased her down onto the closed toilet, then stepped back and handed her a towel.

  “Why don’t you get out of those wet things and—” he turned and pulled his bathrobe off the hook “—use my robe to cover up.” She took the robe from his hands, clutching it as if it were a lifeline. Nodding toward the door, he said, “I’ll wait out in the hall. If you have any problems, yell.”

  “Okay.”

  He stepped out, closing the door behind him. He was tempted to call the clinic and alert them that he had a patient with a lump on the side of her head, no memory, and an ankle with at least a bad sprain. But Rafe decided that it would be unwise to leave his find by herself for too long. He took off his hat and hung it on the coat tree in the corner of the living room, then went back to wait by the bathroom door.

  She stared at the closed door for several moments, fighting the panic that pounded through her brain. When she had awakened a while ago, her life had been a total and complete blank. She couldn’t even come up with a name.

  She pulled herself to a standing position and glanced into the mirror, hoping that seeing her reflection might help her memory. The woman who stared back at her was a stranger. The image brought no memories.

  She bit her lip and struggled against the tears that threatened to overflow. Nothing was going to be accomplished by standing here and feeling sorry for herself, she thought. With the towel, she dried her hair and face, then removed her shirt and bra and dried her upper body. Unzipping her jeans, she worked them and her panties down to her knees, then shrugged on the robe. She sat on the closed toilet seat and removed her tennis shoes. She inched the jeans off her uninjured leg, but as she tried to slip the material off her other ankle, the pain stopped her efforts.

  Pausing for a moment, she tightened the terry belt around her waist. The smell of man wafted up from the material. She recognized the scent as that of her rescuer, and on some basic level, it calmed her nerves.

  “Huh—” She tried to hail him back into the room, but realized she didn’t know his name. “I’m ready,” she called out.

  The bathroom door opened and he reentered. He was a solid, reassuring presence in this nightmare she was having—a handsome man, tall, with dark, wavy hair and brown eyes that a woman could get lost in.

  “I was able to get everything off except—” She looked down at her jeans bunched around her ankle. “I got them that far but I need your help to get them off my injured foot.�
��

  He kneeled before her and carefully pulled her jeans and panties over her foot, setting them on the edge of the tub. Seeing him handle her lingerie brought a blush to her cheeks and an odd feeling to her middle.

  “What’s your name?” she asked as he worked.

  He looked up, surprise coloring his eyes. His black hair waved around his ears and a lock fell onto his forehead. His olive skin glowed with health and vigor.

  “When I called you a moment ago, I realized I don’t know your name.” A strained laugh followed. “For that matter, I don’t know my name, either.”

  His large hand rested on her knee. The robe slid open and his skin touched hers. It was as if an electrical current had run through her body. As if burned, he quickly drew his hand back.

  “Don’t worry about it.” As a reassurance, it lacked a certain conviction. “I’m sure your condition is only temporary.” He glanced away.

  “And your name is?” she asked again, wanting to put a name to her rescuer.

  He looked back at her and held out his hand. “Rafael Sanchez, part-time rancher and full-time Texas Ranger.”

  She might not know who she was, but she knew that if he was a Ranger, he’d take care of her. Probably the best thing that could’ve happened to her was to be found by a Ranger. Rangers were tough, independent men who were instrumental in bringing law to the Texas frontier a hundred years ago. And if he was a Ranger, that meant she was somewhere in Texas.

  She slid her hand into his and his fingers curled around hers. Warmth flooded her stomach. “I guess if I had to wake up without a memory, having you find me was a stroke of good luck.” She tried to sound positive, but she couldn’t keep the nervousness out of her voice.