Chapter Eight
GREER SECURED THE large towel around herself and left the bathroom. It was mid-afternoon and Conall had reluctantly excused himself to take a call.
The proposed Singapore deal was proving more complicated than they’d thought and he’d booked a long-distance discussion with a key contact there. Greer had offered to sit in but had been glad when Conall had suggested she rest instead.
It had been a momentous twenty-four hours, and though she felt a buzz of well-being, neither of them had slept much.
She was still adjusting to the situation. She and Conall were lovers. Had been for months.
His sincerity when he’d assured her he’d be there for her, through whatever it took to get her memory back, filled her with warmth and hope.
She wished she could remember what her feelings had been for him before the accident. She tried to tell herself she was on a high of sexual satisfaction. That these intense feelings wouldn’t be permanent.
Yet it felt like her crush on the man had segued seamlessly into something far deeper than the physical. Even before they slept together, she’d been more than half in love with him. Way more. She’d never felt so much for any other man. Never dared open her heart like this.
She shook her head, her damp hair sliding around bare shoulders. No one, neither Conall nor herself, could expect her to do more than take one day at a time.
But she’d give so much to remember. Regret filled her at not recalling that first kiss. That moment when attraction had morphed into anger and challenge, and their defences had fallen. Five months she’d missed.
How had their relationship developed in that time?
Or hadn’t it? Was it truly purely sexual? Had they decided it would burn itself out given time?
She halted mid-step across the bedroom, her palm pressed to her suddenly churning stomach.
Maybe their relationship had been petering out before the accident. Certainly no one in the Sydney office had given any indication they knew she and Conall were together. Because they were both naturally discreet? Or because they knew what they had was time-limited?
But Conall’s lovemaking told her that couldn’t be the case. He was invested in this. Whatever this was.
It was like walking into a play in the middle of the second act and wondering what her lines were.
No! She refused to be negative. For weeks she’d let those missing months eat away at her when there was nothing she could do about them.
Yet here she was, cherished by Conall in ways she’d never dreamt possible.
Whether they had a future together or not, life was good.
She had the job she loved and she had Conall.
Grinning, she pushed open the door to the wardrobe and found herself in a spacious dressing room.
Conall’s business clothes hung on one side in a beautifully crafted wooden robe.
She made for the first set of drawers. Surely he’d have a T-shirt or something she could wear.
She didn’t want to put on her work clothes yet.
But as she moved further into the room a pop of colour caught her eye and she saw that some of the hanging space on the other side was occupied.
Curious, she padded over on bare feet and found herself staring at a collection of women’s clothes. The bright colour was a poppy-red dress. A colour she’d always loved but didn’t wear.
When she was young her mother had dressed them both in neutral colours, as if trying not to draw attention to either of them.
Greer had automatically continued that habit into adulthood, especially when she began working in the corporate sector.
She thought she’d be taken more seriously if she looked serious.
Yet her hand lifted towards the bright colour. Whose was this? Riffling through the garments, she felt a jolt, as if from an electric shock. She paused, fingers clenching on the sleeve of a blue-grey jacket.
Greer gulped, fighting a roiling sensation in her stomach as she tugged it closer. Tingles ran up her arm and circled her neck, lifting her shoulders and making her gasp for air.
Holding the jacket to her, she collapsed onto the sofa in the middle of the room. She closed her eyes, bending forward, head almost at her knees as she fought sudden all-consuming wooziness.
Slow breaths out. She propped her head in one hand, the other hand still clutching the jacket. That was when she realised she recognised the feel of the fabric.
Eyes closed again, Greer lifted the jacket onto her lap, running her fingers over it. That sense of familiarity intensified. Without letting herself think, she undid the buttons and put it on, feeling it settle around her shoulders.
Another tingle lifted the hairs on her nape. Snapping her eyes open, she stood and spun around to face the full-length mirror. The jacket wasn’t meant to be worn over a towel, but it was meant to be worn by her. She’d had the waist taken in because she liked the tailored look.
Greer gasped as she remembered taking it to a little shop for the alteration.
Collecting it in her lunch break. Wearing it to work and Conall stripping it off her that evening.
He’d kissed her throat and told her he’d been waiting all day to touch her.
His voice was thick with longing and she’d been scrabbling at his shirt, tearing the buttons undone as they fell back onto a bed.
Not the bed here. The one in his penthouse.
Greer stumbled back to the sofa and sank onto it again.
Her mind whirled, disjointed images chasing one another, even snippets of conversation.
Her apology for ripping off his buttons. Conall’s mock-severe tone as he said he’d have to make her pay for that, his smile slow and lascivious. Her surprise at seeing him, rumpled and sexy, sipping morning coffee on the penthouse terrace while he sewed the button back on.
His father, he’d said, had insisted all his children learn self-reliance. That included everything from changing a wheel to mending, feeding themselves and managing a spreadsheet. But Conall’s expression had held a grimness that made her glad she’d grown up with her mother and not his father.
Heart racing, Greer let the memories come, slowly at first. A flow of small, everyday things. She tried not to direct them, but was stunned by how many featured Conall.
He’d been the centre of her world for so long, hadn’t he? Now she was getting her answer to how she’d felt about him during those five months.
Her crush had become so much more. She’d tried to be sensible, but once she’d stepped beyond the constraints she’d set herself, it was like opening the floodgates. She couldn’t remember everything, but enough to know she’d secretly opened her heart to him.
In each new recollection he was as he’d always been.
Focused, hardworking, but with a lurking humour that made her smile.
Now there were more intimate memories too.
Of his tender touches and powerful passion.
Of his husky-voiced midnight loving. His off-key singing in the shower.
And his smile that turned her knees to jelly.
Greer breathed deeply, telling herself to be satisfied with the disjointed snippets for now. It was a start. A wonderful start. Proof that her brain was healing and soon she’d be back to normal.
Relief burgeoned. She was light-headed with it. She wanted to race to Conall and tell him. But that was a conversation to be had in private, not while he was on a business call.
Yet she couldn’t just sit here. The excitement was too much. She’d go outside, explore the gardens and get some fresh air until he was free.
Greer carried the jacket back and placed it on its hanger.
Her fingers brushed the poppy-red dress and she pulled it out, admiring the cut.
The sound of laughter echoed in her ears and she remembered a buzz of happiness as she’d worn it.
She and Conall had been out to see a play and had eaten later at a tiny Basque pintxos bar and restaurant in a narrow city lane. It had been romantic and fun.
That recollection decided her. She swapped the bath towel for the red dress, smiling as she twirled in front of the mirror. She looked forward to seeing Conall’s expression when he saw her in this.
As she turned, something pale caught her eye.
Another dress, another memory? It couldn’t be so easy. Yet she found herself cautiously approaching the item that hung by itself.
A step from the hanger she paused, doubt descending.
No, she wouldn’t push her luck. She’d be content for now with the memories that had already surfaced.
Yet Greer stood, frowning. She had no desire whatever to touch the dress. In fact, cold fingers gripped her shoulders, pinching them higher as she looked at it.
Which made no sense.
Something more powerful than common sense kept her where she was, a flutter of nerves filling her insides and her palms growing damp as she pressed them to her middle.
It was just a dress, ending around knee height. Fairly plain, but its subtle sheen made her think of raw silk. That seemed fitting, since it was the colour of pearls.
She was turning for the bedroom when a voice spoke in her head. Conall’s voice. For you, to mark our special day.
Greer’s neck stiffened as her blurring gaze caught on a flat, crimson velvet box on a shelf beside the pale dress. A familiar box. Instead of reaching for it, her hands locked in a trembling knot before her and her heart dived.
She shook all over as she remembered opening that box and seeing a necklace made of four strings of pearls.
Not plain white but every imaginable colour.
Champagne, oyster grey, ivory, lichen green, dark green, silver grey and rich purple.
Incredibly beautiful. Stunningly expensive. A statement piece.
She’d lifted her head to look at Conall. His smile was real, but there was something in his expression she hadn’t been able to read. Something that looked more like pragmatism than pleasure.
The image disintegrated as understanding trickled in. What special day that dress and gift represented. Why Conall had felt it necessary and why she’d agreed.
And why none of that mattered anymore.
Greer’s vision darkened at the edges and she braced her feet wider against sudden dizziness, pain exploding in her head and stomach.
Be careful what you wish for.
Now she knew how true that was. If only she’d known how lucky she’d been, forgetting everything.
She staggered into the bedroom then down the stairs, clinging to the balustrade, unsure of each step but needing to escape the room with the beautiful ivory dress and the terrible truth it had reawakened.
Finally she found a door into the garden and pushed it open.
Summer sunshine enveloped Greer yet she was chilled to the marrow.
Straight ahead light glinted like mercury on the water.
Eyes fixed on that, she stumbled forward, inhaling the scents of salt water and growing things.
Vaguely she was aware of seagulls screaming, of large trees and banks of colour around her.
But with each step her senses dulled. By the time she reached the end of the private jetty everything was grey. All the colour had disappeared.