Page 127 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

ITWASHARDto imagine this situation ending in any way that would preserve their friendship.

He wanted her—and that want had steel claws.

She wanted him—which in itself was an aphrodisiac. And she wasn’t hiding that want because she believed they were a couple, that he loved her, that she was safe.

Talk about a moral maze. He wouldn’t wish this situation on his worst enemy.

The consultant greeted them in Reception.

‘No, I haven’t remembered anything,’ Clemmie said, before the man had even finished shaking their hands. ‘Well, not much,’ she added, with a sideways glance at Joaquin. ‘Nothing significant.’

‘Don’t rush it.’

Clemmie clamped her lips over a rude response. She was fed up with being told not to rush it—she wanted to rush it.

‘Now, shall I talk you through the tests we are going to run?’

It was late afternoon before the tests were finished, and she was given a clean bill of health—along with some information that changed everything.

Joaquin was alongside her as they walked through the revolving glass doors and out into the pale winter sunshine together.

For how much longer thattogetherwould last, given the bombshell information that had just been dropped on her, remained to be seen.

Clemmie angled a sideways glance at the tall figure beside her and took a deep breath before asking brightly, ‘Did you manage to get any work done?’

During her trips to various departments she had caught glimpses of him sitting in an alcove, his laptop on his knee, apparently completely absorbed.

‘Work?’

‘I saw you were deep into it.’ She glanced at the laptop bag he carried.

‘Sure...most productive,’ he lied.

‘You drive back.’ She threw the keys and he automatically caught them. ‘I’m tired and we might hit rush hour.’

‘So how did it go?’ he asked, when they were seated side by side. ‘You have the results?’

She shrugged. ‘I have to wait for some of the blood test results, but everything else I passed with flying colours.’

‘Your memory?’

‘Except that one. And please don’t tell me not to push it.’

‘All right, I won’t,’ he responded. A voice in his head was telling him to proceed with caution. ‘Something is wrong?’ he asked.

She chewed on her full lower lip and didn’t deny it. Because something was very, very wrong...but what it was she didn’t know yet.

She had her theories, but mostly it boiled down towas it her or was it him?

‘I do not want to discuss it here. Let’s wait until we are back at Maplehurst.’

She thought for a moment that he was going to push her, but after studying her face for a long moment he just nodded.

She sat there immobile, and the longer her silence stretched the deeper into overdrive his imagination went. He didn’t say anything when she took out her phone, but when she had finished with it, and slid the phone back into her bag, she explained.

‘I was texting Mum. I had said I’d call in, but... Anyway, I’ve told her I’ve had the all-clear.’

‘Sure you don’t want to drop by?’

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