Page 30 of If She Only Knew (The Cahills 1)

Besting them always gave him a hard-on.

Chapter Five

“I remember this place,” Marla whispered as the Bentley sped up a narrow, winding street to the summit of Mount Sutro. Her heart leaped as she caught her first glimpse of the house mounted at the most prestigious point on the ridge. Yes, yes, yes! She’d been here before; she was sure of it.

She’d been in a bad mood since leaving the hospital, but some of that was disappearing as bits of memories—tickles of her past flashed behind her eyes. There was a ring . . . she looked at her hand and frowned because it wasn’t the diamonds on her left hand, but a simpler ring that she recalled, and walking along a beach and riding horses . . . yes, yes, yes. Bits and pieces, but still her life.

Less than half an hour ago when she’d been pushed out of the hospital in a wheelchair, she’d had a sense of trepidation even as Alex had helped her into the buttery leather interior of the Bentley. The chauffeur, a behemoth of a blond man with a fragmented smile and cold blue eyes, had held the door for her. Lars Anderson. Nordic. Silent. Harsh looking, like some evil presence in a James Bond film, Lars had been with the family “for years” according to Alex. With only a tip of his hat and that eerie smile, he’d driven unerringly from the hospital, past the lush greenery of Golden Gate Park and the gingerbread Victorians of Haight-Ashbury to this gated fortress.

Home.

Electronic gates opened and the huge mansion, dozens of windows cut into the shake, brick-and-mortar exterior, glowed in the twilight. Ancient rhododendron and azaleas guarded the brick paths and stone steps to a front door that was familiar.

Relief brought tears to her eyes. “I remember this,” she whispered, feeling like a maudlin fool.

“Do you?” Alex’s smile was wide, but there wasn’t much warmth in his eyes, as if he didn’t quite trust her.

“Did you think I would fake it?”

“No, of course not.” Seated in the plush rear seat, he took her hand and linked his fingers through hers. But the short feeling of elation that her memory might be returning slipped away as Lars nosed the car into a basement garage and the glimmer of recognition faded. A silver Jaguar was parked in one spot and there was still room for another vehicle—undoubtedly her car.

“Where’s—”

“Your Porsche is in the shop, waiting for a part.”

“I drive a Porsche?”

“You did,” he said. “You will again. As soon as you’re well and we get the car back. But you might want to wait a while . . . because of the accident.”

She swallowed hard. Shivered. If only she could live that one night over again. “And if wishes were horses, beggars would ride . . .”

“Pardon me?” Alex asked.

“Oh, it’s nothing, just something my mother used to say . . .” Yes! Her mother, she had a vague image of a woman, but it wasn’t clear.

“You remember her?”

“Yes . . . no, not quite, but I will.”

Alex reached into his pocket for a cigarette.

“You said she was dead.”

“That’s right . . . Years ago.”

Too bad, she thought. Right now she could use a mother. And so could your children. You’d better go inside and take care of them. Her heart beat a little faster when she thought of the baby. She ached to hold him, and yet she couldn’t even recall his little face. A fine mother you are.

The thought was discouraging, but she pushed it aside as Lars cut the engine, then hurried around the Bentley and opened the door for her. He offered her a hand as she climbed out of the car and into a garage that smelled faintly of diesel, oil and dust. She felt foolish and awkward, as if she’d never accepted his help before.

But then why would she have? She’d probably always driven herself.

“Thank you,” she muttered automatically and saw a flicker of surprise in his wide-set eyes.

“Over here—the elevator,” Alex reminded her as she glanced around the concrete walls of this basement garage. She studied the hubcaps and tools mounted over a workbench in an adjacent room, and experienced the gnawing feeling that she’d never set foot in here before.

But you remember the house! You did! Don’t worry about it. “Do you want to go straight to the bedroom so you can lie down?” he asked, and she shook her head.

“What I’d like to do is see my baby.” Marla followed him and a stream of smoke to the elevator.

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