More Than Friends (The Warriors) Read Online Free Page A

in an uproar, she now felt stronger and more coherent than she’d felt for several hours. But with her clarity of thought came unpleasant truths she knew she couldn’t avoid—she didn’t know this man, she had no idea what had happened to her, and she wanted to believe the wallet gripped in her hand really did belong to her.
    Brett flicked a glance at his watch as he sank into the chair positioned opposite the sofa. "Room service should be here soon."
    Leah tried to smile, but she simply succeeded in looking strained.
    "How do you feel?"
    "Tired," she admitted.
    "The doctor…"
    "…was right. My head still hurts, but it’s not as bad now."
    "Something’s on your mind, Luv. Talk to me, why don’t you? You can trust me."
    Luv
? She rolled the word around in her mind, trying it on for size and subsequently discovering that it didn’t sound totally foreign to her. Still, she didn’t like the generic quality of it.
    Leah abruptly abandoned her perch on the edge of the sofa cushion and wandered in the direction of the French doors. She paused before the closed beveled–glass panes framed in dense oak. Her blurred image stared back at her. She didn’t acknowledge Brett, even though he followed her and closed the drapes. Nor did she resist when he put his arm around her and led her away from the French doors.
    Leah felt a sudden stab of annoyance that he was being so solicitous, but she didn’t understand why. Slipping free of him halfway across the room, she turned to face him. "Can I really trust you?"
    "With your life."
    Leah blinked in surprised, because he sounded as though he’d just taken a vow. She saw sincerity in the depths of his dark eyes, in the determined expression etched into his hard face, and in the rigidity of his large body. She extended her hand, the license resting in her upturned palm.
    Brett accepted her offering, his confusion evident as he glanced first at the driver’s license and then back at her. "What’s wrong?"
    She cleared her throat. "As you can see, it says my name is Leah Holbrook. It also gives my address. Why are we in a San Francisco hotel if I live in Monterey? Why didn’t you just take me home?"
    Leah searched his face for some telltale emotion. She thought she saw a flash of shock, but he quickly concealed his reaction to her question behind an enigmatic expression that worried her. Maybe she
had
done something illegal.
    "Luv…"
    Leah flinched. "Don’t call me that, please."
    Brett returned the driver’s license to her and then shoved his fingers through his dense black hair. A heavy strand drifted back across his forehead almost immediately. "You always did hate it."
    "I guess I still do."
    "Leah…"
    She edged away from him until the backs of her knees bumped against the sofa. She sank down onto the center cushion. "Until I saw the luggage tags and the driver’s license, I didn’t know my name… that’s assuming Leah Holbrook is my real name."
    Brett winced. "It
is
your name. Don’t forget, the doctor said your memory might be a little spotty for a day or two, but that once you’ve had a chance to rest, whatever memory gaps you’re experiencing are sure to recede."
    "Gaps?" She laughed, the short sound filled with incredulity. "You’re not listening to me. I definitely have gaps. Thirty years worth of gaps, according to the date of birth on this driver’s license. We are not just talking
spotty
. We’re talking amnesia, or some form of it, because I can’t remember
anything
," she insisted, her tone as brittle as the temper she didn’t even know she had flared to life.
    "I thought you meant you didn’t remember the trip, but you’re…" His voice trailed off.
    "I’m talking about my life, not a trip. What if I never remember who I am?" Fear underscored each word.
    "You will."
    "How can you be so sure?"
    "I just am. I’ve seen this kind of thing before."
    "Am I under arrest?"
    "Of course, not!"
    Her hand went to her temple. "Don’t shout at me."
    Brett