Chapter 3

It was hot, damn hot, and as Luke wiped the sweat off his brow, he glanced at his wife and realized it was getting even hotter. Damn. Sarah was driving him crazy, wearing those skimpy shorts and that itty-bitty shirt that barely fit her as she bent over what was shaping up to be a really pretty flower garden. Every inch of her exposed newly tanned skin was tempting him to go over there and get dirty with her, in more ways than one.

He returned his attention to the brand new coat of paint he'd spent the past day and a half putting on the house and tried not to think about Sarah. When he did, he only got more and more confused about his feelings.

He often wavered between an awkward feeling of "it's none of my business" and "I'll never know if I don't ask." Luke still hadn't asked Sarah about the phone call he'd overheard his first night at home - he'd convinced himself it didn't mean anything to him since he had no feelings for her anyway. Even so, he'd decided to stick around and see if any of his memories returned. Then, if it mattered, he'd ask her who the hell she'd been talking to and why.

Well, none of his memories had returned yet, but Luke found the more time he spent with this woman, the more he liked Sarah and wanted to get to know her. She was smart, caring, funny. The problem was, even without his memories, it was starting to matter to him that she might be in love with someone else. There was definitely an attraction between them, some type of bond Luke couldn't explain even if he tried, but he didn't know what the hell to do about it. He was pretty sure Sarah felt it too. Was it proper to make a move on a woman you were married to when you couldn't remember your history with her? Especially if you thought she might have been cheating on you behind your back?

Plus, he was now having other doubts as well. It had hit him one afternoon while bringing in the mail that the address on his driver's license didn't match this one, and Sarah had said they'd lived here a few years. What the hell did that mean? He'd asked Sarah about it, hoping she could offer a reasonable explanation. She had seemed surprised, maybe a little shocked, but then had brushed it off as unimportant, something he'd just forgotten to have done. He thought, but didn't argue, that he was pretty sure it was illegal to forget such things after a certain amount of time.

Why didn't he believe she was being completely honest with him? Why didn't it make sense, the idea of Sarah, such a quiet, devoted lady, cheating on him? Did she lead a secret life, whoring around behind his back for kicks? Or worse, had she done it with his approval, for both of their kicks? Either scenario scared the hell out of Luke, quite frankly. The man he was now absolutely could not tolerate sharing his wife with any other lover. He'd definitely leave her first, but... maybe he was just jumping to conclusions. Maybe he should just accept what she had said was plausible and forget about his doubts.

So many doubts...

There was also the money he'd discovered in his bank account. His single bank account, which had a hell of a lot of money in it for someone whose wife and home gave Luke the impression they were struggling along financially. He had begun to wonder if he'd discovered Sarah's infidelity and had been planning to make a break by opening an account she couldn't access.

If Sarah were cheating or in love with someone else, was she just staying with Luke now because he'd lost his memories and she felt sorry for him? He hated the idea of that more than the idea of her cheating. Of course, Luke also had to wonder about his own fidelity, being away from her so much. What kind of man had he really been? What kind of marriage had they really had? Maybe he'd been the guilty party and she was trying to protect him from that knowledge now...

Aw, hell. There were those doubts again, creeping in no matter how hard he tried not to think about them. He and Sarah had agreed to counseling together, and their first appointment was tomorrow afternoon. Maybe he'd get some answers then.

He sighed and then lowered the paint roller to its pan. Sarah must have caught on to the fact that he was finished with his task because her sweet voice called out, "So what do you think?"

He turned and figured she was asking his opinion about her flowers, but he couldn't help himself. His eyes caught and lingered on her, kneeling in the grass, using the back of her wrist to wipe her brow, leaving a smudge of dirt there and still looking so damn sexy he once again couldn't believe he'd won this creature for his wife.

"So?" Sarah prompted again, a little uncertainly.

"Beautiful," was all he said. She smiled happily and her own gaze slid to the work he'd just finished. "That looks so much better. Do you want me to help you finish up?"

Together they worked to get the job done, but the sweltering heat of the Georgia sun about did both of them in. Luke had long ago discarded his t-shirt, and Sarah's was wet and sticking to her chest by the time they called it quits and headed inside to the kitchen for something to drink.

"Are you feeling OK? You haven't overdone it, have you?" she asked him for about the hundredth time since he'd started tinkering around the house.

"I'm fine. Just thirsty."

She poured him some sweet iced tea and then leaned back against the refrigerator to gulp down her own fair share. Luke watched her, wondering if there was anything sexier than a scantily-clad woman like her covered in sweat, in that pose. Too late he realized Sarah was doing some watching of her own, her eyes lingering on his bare chest. Suddenly their eyes met. He saw her swallow and turn away, then say, "What would you like for dinner? I was thinking of making pot roast, but-oh!" She had knocked something to the floor and bent to pick it up. Since it was closer to him, he bent down to pick it up at the same time. "Oh, sorry," she said when they awkwardly bumped into each other coming up.

Luke couldn't say for sure how it happened or who made the first move, but the next thing he knew, his lips were on hers and her arms were around his neck, hanging on for dear life. It started out slow and tentative and quickly exploded into one hell of a kiss. He slid one hand around Sarah's waist, hauling her smaller body against his much harder one. The impact made her gasp, and he took full advantage, sliding his tongue inside her lips for a taste. It was hot and hungry and fierce, the way they tasted each other. She bit and sucked at his lower lip, her hands tangling in his hair to keep him from pulling away from her. He found himself backing her up until she was pressed firm against the refrigerator door, no room for escape herself.

Finally, they had to breathe, so Luke pulled away but didn't stop, moving his head down to the side of her neck. She tasted damp and salty, but he didn't care, not when Sarah gasped, "Oh, Luke, yes!"

He slid one hand over her smooth midriff, pushing her tank top up as he sought out the feel of her breast. Finding it, he slid his fingers beneath the elastic of her bra, teasing her until she begged, "Please Luke!"

"What do you want, Sarah? Tell me and I'll do it," he whispered heavily in her ear. "I don't know what you like."

She kissed him hard, then said, "You. I like you. Please..." He realized her hands were no longer holding him against her. They were between their bodies, reaching for the zipper of his jeans as her eyes begged him not to stop. "Make love to me, Luke. It's all either of us wants."

Reason vanished. Once again his mouth was on hers, his hands were on her body, lifting her until her arms clung to his neck so she didn't fall. He carried her down the hall until he had to make a choice - his room or hers? Luke supposed he should take her into her room, their room, but he still felt most comfortable in the space he'd been given. He veered to the left and pushed open the door to the guest room. He lowered her to the bed, and when he made to pull away, she arched against him, her lips clung to his in a wild, urgent display of need. Sarah pushed at his jeans, shoving them past his hips as she tore her mouth away from his, only to lave hot, tiny kisses across his chest. His hands sought her heated skin, skimming under her shirt, pushing the offending garment up and over her head and tossing it aside. She strained against him, offering more. Against his lips, he felt her mouth form his name, pleading for more.