LITMIR.BIZ

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Shiny badge. He flicked it closed again before she could read the name.

      “You wanted me. Here I am and with all the time in the world to listen to what you have to say.” He paused, drawing out his comment. “Let’s get to those questions.”

      “But…” That was all she had. The rest of the sentence just kind of died in the air.

      He snatched up a towel and draped it over his shoulders. “Including your name.”

      “I don’t—”

      “Remember? Yeah, heard you the first seven times.” He grabbed both ends of the towel and pulled it taut against his neck. “I just don’t believe you.”

      The man was as smart as he looked, which was a damn shame.

      Chapter 3

      Copper. Out on the beach Kane had wondered. Looking at the mystery woman standing on his bath mat, now he knew. Her hair fell in loose copper-colored curls around her shoulders, drying as he watched. Those green eyes were the color of the grass in spring. The brightness a perfect opposite to her creamy pink-hued skin.

      Lovely and delicate. A beautiful woman.

      Except for the lying. She had not uttered a single truthful sentence since he dumped her in the shower and forced her out of her fake slumber.

      His robe dwarfed her petite frame, making her look sweet and vulnerable. After talking with her for five minutes, he knew that was a sham, too. This woman could hold her own.

      Now he had to see if she could tell the truth.

      “I’m ready when you are,” he said.

      She clenched the robe even tighter against her breasts. “You can look somewhere else. I’m not interested.”

      It took a few seconds for her comment to settle in. When the words hit him, so did a twinge of guilt. The woman likely suffered from something, even if that something was her own stupidity. No wonder she expected the worst from him.

      “I’m not offering,” he said, hoping to ease her concern.

      “Keep it that way, or I strangle you with this belt.” She twirled the material a bit.

      He wondered if she realized the move looked more like a striptease than a threat. The direction of his thoughts confirmed what he already knew—three months was too long to go without a woman. He’d started seeing sexual overtones everywhere, even from a nearly drowned woman.

      He exhaled for emphasis. “Look, Trixie, we have a problem.”

      “Trixie?”

      “Do you prefer Fern?”

      “To what?” She stopped twirling the belt.

      “I don’t know. Mabel?”

      “Who?”

      “Or is it Bertha?”

      A flush settled over her cheeks. “I don’t even know what we’re talking about.”

      Somehow he didn’t believe that either. He’d been in law enforcement in some form or another since turning twenty-one. That amounted to fifteen years of intuition and experience. During his time with the Drug Enforcement Agency he’d seen everything. Tracked down money and drugs. Dodged bullets and knives. Hell, he’d broken unbreakable perps. Same with his current position with the police department.

      This lady put on a good front, but she was playing some sort of game just like the rest of them. He just had to figure out which one.

      “We’re still working on your name,” he said as he towel dried his hair. “I see you as a Gertrude.”

      She clenched her teeth together so hard his gums ached in sympathy. A lot of anger brewed under the surface with this one. He filed that information away for later.

      “I told you I don’t remember my name. Why don’t you believe me?”

      He threw the balled-up towel on the counter. “Maybe because you’re lying.”

      She gasped.

      Her acting needed some work, but he appreciated the effort. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re doing a convincing job, but the I-don’t-remember thing is getting old.”

      She waved her hand in the air in a dismissive gesture, one that came very close to giving him the finger. When she did it a second time, he figured she was giving him the finger.

      “Think whatever you want,” she said as she curled her bare toes into his bath mat.

      He couldn’t figure out if she was cold or trying to hide her shocking pink nail polish. “Right. The amnesia. Any other disease or afflictions you’re pretending to have? Just so I’m prepared.”

      The stain on her cheeks deepened. “For a supposed police officer you don’t seem all that concerned about the fact I nearly drowned.”

      That thought sobered him. Despite everything else, trouble barked at her heels. “If you tell me how you got in the water, I can help. I can’t do anything until you level with me.”

      “I have.”

      “Look, Fern—”

      She lost some of her cool and started shouting. Even stomped one of those bare feet against the small carpet square. “Stop calling me that.”

      “It could be your name.”

      “It’s not.”

      Tweaking her temper came easy. “You’re saying you know what your name isn’t?”

      “That’s right.”

      He’d received medical training. Knew how to identify injuries. “Did you read that in a book?”

      “When?”

      “Whenever you dreamed up this story.”

      “I was too busy drinking in buckets of saltwater and swimming for my life to read or dream anything.”

      “Touché.” He grabbed his shield off the counter. “Let’s go.”

      “I’m done showering, thanks.”

      “To my bedroom.” He reached for her elbow.

      She backed away and evaded his grasp. “Look, I’m not—”

      “Not for that.” The thought of a mutual and hot “that” had been hovering at the back of his mind ever since he stepped into the shower and felt her soft skin pressing against him.

      Not about her. About any woman. Now that she’d brought the idea out into the open, he wouldn’t be able to block it again until he found a woman to scratch that itch. Preferably one who could tell the truth for more than three minutes at a time.

      “We’re going to change,” he said.

      “If by that you mean change into someone less annoying, I’m all for it.” She motioned for him to go first.

      He figured the biting remarks were a defense mechanism. Either that or her entire personality consisted of sarcasm. “You need to stay in my line of sight.”

      “I’m still not interested,” she grumbled.

      “Me either.”

      “Right.” She shot a bug-eyed glance at his zipper.

      As far as he was concerned, she needed to keep his pants out of this. And stop looking. That type of encouragement he did not need.

      He exhaled again to let her know his frustration, hoping this time she would get the hint. “I’m in wet jeans. Not comfortable. I need to get out of them and into something else so we can figure out what to do with you.”

      “You’re not doing anything with me.”

      “I’m

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