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CHAPTER FOUR

“SO, AM I like a suspect or something?”

The sheriff shrugged. “Depends on the results of the Pierce woman’s autopsy.”

Molly felt an odd sensation. It was like a flashbulb going off in her mind. It was so quick she couldn’t hold the image.

“Are you okay?” Justin asked as he took her hand in his. In one fluid motion he had managed to shove the sheriff off to the side to give her his full attention.

“Y-yes.” Molly rubbed her palm across her forehead. “I just blanked for a minute.”

Justin turned to the sheriff and said, “Alec, maybe now isn’t a good time for this.”

“I’ll be back.”

The sheriff’s proclamation did little to calm Molly’s frazzled state. Who were the Harrisons? Who was Sara Pierce and what did any of them have to do with her?

Without dropping her hand, Justin pulled his stool to the edge of her bed and lowered his more than six-foot frame onto it. “Don’t make yourself crazy, Molly. Just relax and things will probably fall into place.”

She felt herself frown. “Probably?”

Justin treated her to a handsome grin. “Worrying won’t alter the outcome,” he said.

She watched, transfixed, as his gaze dropped to their entwined hands. Once realization struck, he snatched his hand away, then all but tucked it behind his sizeable frame.

“I’ve got to check on the baby before Mrs. Beasley comes in.”

Abruptly, Justin walked away. Molly said nothing. She was occupied taking in the sight of his broad back, incredible tush and slight swagger. It seemed more likely than not that Justin was perplexed. And she didn’t think it was because of her condition. Had he been feeling the same energy that heated the pit of her stomach?

“The same energy?” Molly groused softly as she threw her arm over her face. “Is lust a form of energy?”

“It can be.”

Molly shot upright when she heard the response to her very rhetorical and very private question.

Julie was standing next to the bed with a pitcher, a glass and a lecherous smile. “Justin thought you might be thirsty.” She placed the beverage on the side table and pulled the stool over. “If you’re going to lust after Justin, be prepared to stand in line.”

Molly felt her cheeks burn. “I hardly know him, I—I—”

“Wouldn’t be normal if you didn’t notice he’s gorgeous, smart, kind, compassionate and sexy as hell,” Julie finished in a conspiratorial tone.

Molly thought for a second, then said, “Have I just stepped on your toes?”

Tossing her head back, Julie laughed softly. “Me? The only man in my life is Thomas.”

“His father?” Molly asked.

“Has never even seen him. If I have anything to say about it, my husband won’t ever be a part of Thomas’s life.”

“I guess that gives us something in common,” Molly sighed. “Whatever man I was involved with beat me up, too, according to Justin.”

“My husband never hit me,” Julie corrected, an intense sadness creeping into her eyes. It was a pained, haunted expression.

“I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions,” Molly said. “Besides, it really isn’t any of my business.”

Julie shrugged. “You’re the first person I’ve talked to like this in months. It helps.”

“Feel free to use me as a sounding board. Lord knows my board is empty.”

Julie laughed. “You’re pretty funny, Molly. I’m amazed you can still laugh given what’s happened to you.”

“It helps not to be able to remember a bloody thing.”

“I wish I could do that,” Julie mused. “Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and change the past. If only I hadn’t walked in on my husband when I did.”

“With another woman?”

She shook her head. “That I could have accepted.”

“Another man?”

Julie gave an ironic smile. “Believe it or not, even that would have been better than what I heard and saw.”

“Is your husband near here?” Molly asked.

“No.”

Upon hearing the abrupt response, Molly said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You aren’t prying,” Julie insisted. “It’s just a lot safer for us and for you if you know as little possible about me.”

“Knowing as little as possible seems to be my forte right about now,” Molly quipped.

“Sorry. It must be frustrating for you.”

“Very,” Molly agreed. “But in a weird way, it’s also kind of...interesting.”

“How?”

“It’s as if I’ve had my slate wiped clean. I can be anyone or anything I want. It’s sort of liberating. Except not knowing about my past also complicates things.”

“Like what?”

Molly let out a slow breath. “Some woman killed herself using pills that were prescribed for me. The sheriff sounded as if he thinks I might have been some sort of accomplice in her death.”

“I heard. Trust me, Molly. Unless they find some sign that you force-fed her those pills, you are not responsible for some woman’s poor choice.”

“Maybe. But what about the beating and the car running me down? I must have a pretty screwed-up life for those two things to have happened.”

Julie sat pensively for a minute, then suggested, “Maybe you were getting your act together. A guy beat you up, you got away from him. The sheriff said you weren’t from around here. I’d bet my last dollar that you were trying to get yourself out of a lousy situation.”

“I didn’t get very far,” Molly pointed out.

“Maybe you did,” Julie countered. “Remember, the driver who hit you could have just been distracted—fooling with a cell phone, looking at a map—and then fled in fear. There are endless possibilities beyond just thinking he or she intended to hurt you.”

“Let’s hope,” Molly replied, stifling a yawn.

Julie ran her fingers through her cropped dark hair. Molly saw the beginnings of lighter roots and realized that Julie’s color wasn’t natural.

“I’d offer to let you rest, but Justin sent me over here with strict instructions,” Julie said. “He wants you ‘awake and responsive’ for at least four more hours.”

“Awake is a problem. Responsive seems to be on autopilot whenever he gets within ten feet of me.”

Julie laughed. “He is definitely hot.”

“Definitely. So what’s his deal? Why is he out here in the middle of nowhere?”

“How dare you disparage Cactus Creek,” Julie teased. “Population two hundred and eleven. It’s actually a nice town. Nice people.”

“Forget the other two-hundred and ten, what’s with the doctor?”

“Justin is a good old-fashioned country doctor.”

Julie’s words echoed in Molly’s head but it wasn’t Julie’s voice she heard saying them. It was a female voice, older and with a more pronounced Texas drawl.

“Molly?”

She blinked back to the present.

“Are you okay?” Julie asked, her face a palette of concern.

Molly nodded. “Just a little mental trip down a blue highway.”

“Blue highway?” Julie repeated.

“On a map,” Molly explained. “The smaller, off-the-beaten-path routes that few people take. They’re usually colored blue on maps.”

“Did you remember something?”

Molly shook her head. “Not really. I heard a voice.”

“As in you remembered the sound of a person’s voice? Or was it a totally psychotic experience?”

“A sixty-forty blend,” Molly decided. “What you said about Justin—the country doctor thing—it was like I had heard those words before.”

“It’s a common expression.”

“You’re right, I’m sure it was just what’s left of my mind playing tricks on me.”

“It’s good you can joke about it. I think I’d be in a full panic if I was in your shoes.”

“You mean in my cast—no shoes for me for a while,” Molly teased. “I was panicked. I still am on a lot of levels. I think I did denial and anger, now I’m moving into acceptance.”

Julie was staring at her as if she’d just recited the Constitution verbatim.

“What?”

“That sounded...clinical. Maybe you’re some sort of doctor or therapist.”

“A battered doctor? I don’t think so.”

“It happens,” Julie assured her. “Trust me when I tell you that education and social status can’t protect you from bad things.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Firsthand,” Julie acknowledged guardedly. “But back to Justin. He went to medical school back East but came home to practice. He owns this clinic, the adjoining house and property and flies his own helicopter.”

“If he also wanted to eliminate hunger and prayed for world peace, could be a Playmate of the Month.”

“Funny, but very close to the truth. The man definitely doesn’t lack in the looks department.”

Molly agreed. “Doctors should be old, white-haired and paternalistic,” she commented. “Then patients wouldn’t get...distracted during examinations.”

“They do more than get distracted,” Julie whispered, drawing her head closer. “A lot of the women around here throw themselves at Justin faster and harder than major league pitches.”

“So he isn’t wanting for female companionship?”

“That’s the strange part,” Julie softly replied. “In the time I’ve been here, he’s had exactly one date, and then he was only gone for a short while.”

“Is he gay?” Molly asked.

“Nope. Once he mentioned a fiancée.”

“What happened?”

“He didn’t say.”

“Didn’t say what?” Justin asked, walking up to the two women.

“Why you wanted Molly to stay awake,” Julie lied.

Molly was impressed. Julie was quick on her feet. Yet somehow, Julie didn’t impress her as someone who would lie often. What had happened to make her add those skills to repertoire?

Justin looked at Molly as he pressed his fingertips to her wrist to check her pulse.

All Molly could do was silently pray that her heart wouldn’t race merely because he was touching her.

“It’s a little fast,” Justin commented, then replaced her arm at her side. “Because you lost consciousness, I want to keep tabs on your neurological responses for a while. I need you awake in order to do that.”

I’m awake now, Molly thought, still feeling a tingle from the ghost of his touch.

The Best Man in Texas

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