Page 22 of Diagnosis Attraction

Elizabeth was still in the living room when he returned, and he had to force himself not to stop and touch her. He’d forged a connection with this woman who didn’t even know her name, and he wanted to strengthen it. But nothing had changed as far as his ethics were concerned. He still had no business coming on to her.

CHAPTER FIVE

Matthew was right. Elizabeth was exhausted. She dropped off almost as soon as she crawled into bed. For a few hours, she was able to sleep. But sometime in the small hours of the morning, a dream grabbed her.

She was on her way to work. And a car was behind her, inching up. There were men in the car, and she knew they wanted to hurt her. Because …

Her hands clenched on the steering wheel as she struggled to grab on to the answer. The only thing she could remember was “the women.”

She’d been trying to help them. She had to remember that. It was an important clue. But there was no time for clues right now. She had to get away because the men were going to kill her if they caught up. She wasn’t sure why she thought so. But she knew it was true. Well, not right away. They were going to question her first because they wanted to know how she had found out about the women.

She pressed on the accelerator, desperate to lose the car behind her, weaving down an alley before shooting out onto the street. A truck was in the way, and she slammed into a lamppost.

This time, she woke with a muffled scream, wondering where she was.

Then it came back to her. At least the past day. She glanced at the clock. It was four in the morning, and she knew where she was—at Polly Kramer’s house, the nice woman on the hospital nursing staff who had brought her home when she couldn’t even remember her name.

At least she knew her first name. Elizabeth. She’d gotten that when she touched Matt Delano the first time. Something had happened when they’d touched. A flood of memories—his and hers. Was she fixated on him because she couldn’t remember anything else about herself? It was an interesting theory, but she knew it wasn’t true. Whatever had transpired between them was its own phenomenon—and unique: The exchange of information and the startling sexual awareness that pulled them together every time they touched. And then there was the speaking to each other, mind to mind. Don’t forget about that.

She squeezed her hands into fists. He could have helped her, but that sexual connection was keeping him away because he didn’t think it was appropriate.

Movement at the door made her tense and glance up. Polly Kramer was standing there, staring at her.

Elizabeth relaxed when she saw who it was.

“Are you all right, dear?”

“Yes. I had a nightmare. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“I’m a very light sleeper. Are you all right?” the older woman asked again.

“Yes,” she lied.

“Was the nightmare a memory?”

“Maybe.”

She related the dream.

Polly lingered for a few more moments. “And that’s all you remember?”

“Yes,” she answered, again making the decision not to tell her about what else Matt had pulled from her mind.

When Polly had gone back to bed, Elizabeth lay in the dark, thinking about the snatches of memory—trying to force herself past the blank wall before the car chase.

What, exactly, had she been doing when she got herself into trouble? It had something to do with women who were in trouble. She knew that much.

Matthew had said all hypnosis was self-hypnosis. Did that mean she could try to do what he’d guided her through before he left?

She considered the idea, then rejected it. What if she couldn’t wake up, and nobody was here to pull her back?

She made a frustrated sound. Everywhere she turned led to some new dead end. Well, not really new. Just another manifestation of the same old sense of defeat.

She tried to go back to sleep, but that was beyond her. Finally, she heaved herself up and went down the hall. Hoping she wasn’t going to wake Polly, she prowled around the kitchen, checking ingredients in the refrigerator and the pantry. Polly had the makings of a vegetarian minestrone soup. Well, vegetarian except for chicken broth.

Yes, she could make that and put it in the refrigerator for later.

She stopped and laughed out loud. Was cooking what she did to relax herself?

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