Chapter 1

"All settled in?"

Luke blinked himself out of the daze he was in and placed the framed wedding photo back on the table in the hallway. He turned toward his beautiful wife and forced a smile as he shrugged and answered, "As settled in as I'm gonna get, probably."

Her happy smile dimmed, and he realized that probably hadn't been the most diplomatic thing to say in the circumstances, at least not with the tone he'd used saying it. Damn, but this was odd. Shifting uncomfortably, he added, "I'm sorry. It's just a little strange." He glanced around and told her, "You have a lovely home. Very warm and welcoming."

"I'm glad you like it," his wife said, obviously now forcing a smile of her own. She awkwardly slid her hands into the back pocket of her jeans, which only caused her full breasts to press against the fabric of her t-shirt and give his attention a new focus.

Luke swallowed and tried to meet her eyes instead of her chest. He didn't know what it was about this woman, but ever since he'd met her, he'd been almost constantly hard, imagining all sorts of dirty and wicked things about that body of hers. Then again, he was human, and she was... well, stacked.

He backtracked and almost laughed at that thought, "ever since he'd met her." By his way of thinking, he'd only met her a month or so ago.

Luke remembered that much all too well, unfortunately. Waking up in the hospital. Not knowing where the hell he was, or why. Then realizing he couldn't even remember who he was, or that the woman, this woman, sitting vigil at his bedside was his wife of ten years. The doctors had said he had traumatic amnesia, a result of an accident on the construction site where he had worked the past two months. Even though he could remember basic knowledge, like how to walk and talk, he couldn't remember the specifics about who he was. His driver's license had said he was Luke Johnston, 35, of Atlanta, Georgia, and since the picture matched his face, he had to believe it was true.

He'd spent long enough in the hospital talking to psychotherapists and being given one test after another. It hadn't helped him remember a damn thing. They'd stuck him in a convalescent home after that, long enough for his body to heal while he came to terms with the idea his mind might never do the same. He'd been glad to get out of there, even if he still had no memory of the woman who'd been holding his hand when he first woke up, the same woman who had visited him everyday without fail, the same woman who always smiled at him as if he were the only man in her universe.

Sarah. His wife's name was Sarah. He had to keep reminding himself of that.

Now, he cleared his throat and tried to make polite conversation. No reason for them both to be uncomfortable. "How long have you, er, have we lived here?"

"About three years," Sarah said. "We bought the house when I found out I-" she stopped herself short, then explained, "Well, when I accepted a job at a nearby school, and it was more convenient."

"I'm surprised. Everything in the guest room looks brand new," he observed.

Sarah smiled wryly and brushed some of her long, dark hair out of her face as she admitted, "I went out last night and bought new sheets and towels. I bought you all new shampoo, toothpaste and deodorant too. All the essentials. I thought it would make you feel more comfortable, rather than use your old stuff."

"You're right, it does," he smiled. "Thank you for being so thoughtful."

She actually turned a little red under the praise, and he suddenly had so many questions he wanted to ask Sarah. How did they meet? How did he propose? Why didn't they have kids? She hadn't offered many details about their marriage, he supposed at the urging of his doctor, who had said he shouldn't try to force his memory to return. And he hadn't had the guts to ask her yet.

"Um, I think I'll go get dinner ready. Feel free to explore the house," Sarah told him as she slowly moved down the hall toward the kitchen she'd shown him when she'd first brought him home, what?, two hours ago now. "If you need anything, just yell."

She didn't take her eyes off him until she had to round the corner, and he sensed that she didn't want to let him out of her sight even then. As if she were amazed he was even here. Still, he watched her too, wondering if he should offer to help or do as she said and explore. He wouldn't mind spending more time with Sarah; hell, he wouldn't mind the opportunity just to stare at her for a while. Even if his head didn't recognize her, his body seemed to know her pretty damn well, or want to know her, at least. Even his doctor had commented on the chemistry between them.

"You two can't keep your eyes off each other," the good doc had told Luke with a twinkle in his elderly eyes. "Sarah obviously adores you, and if I had a woman like that to go home to... well, it can't be all that bad, surely?"

They'd obviously been very happy together. This house and the various photo albums she'd brought to his hospital room testified to that. The photos showed a very affectionate couple, always hugging and touching and smiling. So many times at the hospital or the home, Sarah would be talking to him and lay her hand on his leg as if it were habit, only to pull back when he seemed uncomfortable with the gesture. Then she would gaze at one of the old pictures of him with such longing it nearly broke his heart. Other times, the times he felt most comfortable around her, Luke had to admit, she seemed to be keeping herself at a distance from him, acting very formal and aloof. He supposed she must be as wary of him in his current state as he was of her. Poor woman. They'd both gotten a raw deal.

Running a hand over the stubble at his chin, he turned and decided to get familiar with his surroundings. The doctor had actually been pretty vague on when his memory would come back. The old geezer had just evasively kept repeating, "Time will tell." Luke figured anything could jog his memory at any time if the movies were to be believed, and he did seem to remember small, insignificant things everyday. However, he was aware there was a possibility he might not ever remember the important details that told him who he was.

It was such a strange thing, really. He couldn't remember his childhood, any of his friends or family, or any of those experiences that taught people how to be who they eventually became. He could walk and talk, read and write, and although he hadn't yet driven, he was pretty sure he knew how to do that too. He'd watched enough television these past couple of weeks in the hospital to realize he knew the answers to half the questions on Jeopardy and Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember going to school to learn those things. He didn't know if he was more scared or frustrated by that fact.

As he entered the main bedroom, he passed a mirror and paused to study his reflection. He'd studied it a lot in the past week or so, trying to come to terms with the fact that he couldn't really recognize his own face either. The face staring back at him could be considered handsome, he supposed. Not movie-star handsome, but not bad. He figured a babe like Sarah could have done much better for a match, but he wasn't going to start analyzing her taste now. His sandy-colored hair was much longer than it was in all of the pictures he'd seen of himself, which was funny because they'd told him they'd had to cut it at the hospital. Maybe they had just meant the part they'd shaved so he could get stitches because, for the most part, it was so long now it almost brushed the collar of his shirt. All of the pictures he'd seen of himself showed a short, close-cropped cut, very business-like and professional. Personally he liked this length better, but he would have to see about getting it cut so the shaved part didn't stand out so much.

He also noticed that his face was a lot tanner now than in any of the pictures, and suited him better than the pale, office-confined look. That made sense since he apparently had worked in construction. They'd told him he'd been in an accident at work. They'd been digging a tunnel beneath a road when the area around him and another man had collapsed. He had pushed his co-worker to safety but had been trapped beneath the rubble. It had taken hours to safely remove him from the debris, and they hadn't expected him to be alive when they had finally gotten to him. He didn't remember a thing about it, but he was comforted to know he had been a decent enough man to save his co-worker, even if it had cost him dearly.

He glanced around the room, taking in all of the smallest details. Pictures, books, clothes all neatly put in there place. He wondered if Sarah was a neat freak, or if she had just tidied up for his homecoming. She must have moved all of his stuff into the spare room last night, because he only saw her stuff in here. He opened a few drawers just as a test, and because he was curious at what he'd find. There were some men's clothes in his size, but oddly enough, it all looked brand new, and what didn't smelt sort of funny... musty. He sighed, a little disappointed still not to recognize anything. The adjoining bathroom was the same. He didn't see much of anything at all that belonged to a man in there. Hell, he didn't even see any condoms or proof of birth control pills in the medicine cabinet. What did they do? Practice the rhythm method? Maybe they didn't have to worry about it. Maybe they couldn't have kids. Maybe they kept those things in a drawer beside the bed.

"Um, Luke? I forgot to ask..."

He jumped at the sudden sound of Sarah's voice. He pushed the cabinet closed and turned to find her watching him from the doorway. "I was going to make steaks because it's always been your favorite, but maybe you'd prefer something else?" she continued.

"Steaks sound fine," he told her, feeling awkward, as if he'd been caught invading a stranger's personal space. "I like mine well done, please." Too late he realized she must know that already, and then marveled at another trivial detail that had come easily to his mind.

She smiled - one of those formal smiles again - and left, and he breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn't taken offense that he'd been snooping. Then again, why should she? He was her husband. He laughed a little at the thought and fingered the unfamiliar gold band on his finger. To be someone's husband, he sure felt awfully... unattached. When the doctor had first explained that Sarah was his wife, he'd denied it, told them they must have him confused with someone else. He hadn't felt a damn thing when he looked at her outside of what any red-blooded, healthy young male would feel. To him, she was nothing more than a beautiful stranger he'd met several weeks ago. Yet even when Sarah was acting wary of him, he could see that she had strong feelings for him. That made this situation all the more awkward for him. What did she expect or want from him? What if he never regained his memory?

Troubled by his thoughts, he explored the rest of the house and found several areas in need of repair. There was some faulty wiring in the basement where the washer and dryer were, part of the porch was all but rotted through, and the ceiling of the living room had stains as if the roof had leaked recently. Funny how he easily spotted the flaws and knew instantly what it would take to fix them. He couldn't help but wondering why, if he had worked in construction, the problems hadn't been fixed already.

He found one room that was locked, and although that piqued his curiosity, he figured it wasn't any of his business to ask Sarah for a key so he could see inside. It was probably just an old storage closet anyway - that part of the house wasn't shaped to include another room of any size. When he made his way back to the kitchen, Sarah was cutting vegetables to go with their meal. As he got closer he could hear that she was actually crying softly. Oh hell.

"Are you OK?" he asked automatically, startling her. Lifting her sad face, she stared at him pitifully for a second before trying to regain her composure. He felt terrible. Sarah had been nothing but kind to him. But this had to be hard for her, maybe even harder than it was for him if she really loved him as much as she seemed to.

"I just-" she wiped away a few tears and tried to smile. "I almost lost you forever. I wasn't sure I'd ever have you this close to me again." Then the tears began again, and he reacted on instinct, gathering her in his arms for comfort. She grabbed hold of him as if she were afraid to let go as she sobbed quietly against his shoulder. "I love you, Luke. Please don't ever leave me. I know you can't remember me now, but please give me a chance. I can make you love me again, I know I can. We can start fresh. That's better anyway, right?"

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere," he assured her, although he wasn't sure it was a promise he could keep. If he couldn't regain his memories, he feared there wouldn't be much hope for their marriage. Maybe he would come to love her as much as his former self had, but then again, maybe he wouldn't. The future was as uncertain to him as his past was.