The remainder of the night was pure hell on Seth. First he’d come close to taking Charlie, against his better judgment, knowing he couldn’t commit to memories that were still sketchy and knowing she needed to know he remembered every move, every utterance. He wanted to remember—he craved knowing, but all he had were fragmented pieces floating somewhere just beyond his reach.

Then, when he’d been about to explode from need of her, the little witch had handcuffed him, chastised him and accused him of nursing his ego, of all things.

His groin still ached from unrequited want. Almost as bad as his friggin’ shoulders. He hoped uncharitably that she wasn’t entirely comfortable in the bed while he had crashed on the floor near her feet.

He asked himself over and over, did he want her because he remembered her, remembered them, or was he so hot he nearly combusted every time she looked at him because he hadn’t been with a woman since God knew when?

Seth shook his head restlessly. No, it was obviously because of Charlie somehow. No other woman had affected him quite the way she did—of that much he was positive. He admired her professionalism when interviewing the doctors, her panache at adapting to the horrid weather conditions and her spunk at taking him down a notch or two when he got under her skin.

What he felt when he held her, kissed her or merely looked at her was an entirely different matter, one dealing with parts of himself he hadn’t known existed. She got to him with her direct gazes and mocking grin, the way she placed her hands on her hips when she was thinking, how she had no problem eating in front of him, which was refreshing. The few women he’d encountered since he left Mexico were so self-conscious they couldn’t enjoy themselves. Not so with Charlie. She was in the moment no matter when or where she was.

Someone’s cell phone rang. He smacked his forehead at the chance that it might be his—who would be calling him? Dorinda? Fat chance. She’d probably discovered he was gone within an hour of his having left the mansion the night before, but he was confident neither Hector nor Pink would give him up, and Dorinda didn’t have this particular cell phone number.

The darkened room brightened slightly when he heard the bedside lamp click on. He listened to Charlie’s soft, low voice and determined she was in deep discussion with her partner. What had she called him?

“Julio, slow down. Where did you get this information?” she asked quietly.

Seth leaned so far from his pallet beneath her that he feared she’d see his head poking around the corner, spying on her. He glanced at the alarm clock on her bedside table. Five minutes of midnight. He hoped she chewed Julio’s ass for waking them. Then again, it irked him that the man felt free enough to phone her in the middle of the damned night, even if he was her partner.

When it appeared she was saying goodbye, he quickly dove back beneath the thin blanket and eased his head back onto the single pillow she’d tossed him from the bed. Her silence bugged him. What was she thinking? What had Julio said that was so upsetting?

Seth waited a few seconds before breaking the silence. “Everything okay?”

“Not really. That was my partner—he’s working late, said a body was found slashed and stuffed in a Dumpster near one of the yacht clubs. Seems my one witness in the George Martin case was murdered.”

“Witness? How strong?” he asked.

“She’s the one who told me Martin was on his way to Mexico last time they spoke. He was at Bush Airport, about to board the plane when he called to let her know he’d be gone a few days on business, something to do with the escort service.”

He heard Charlie sigh and remained silent. He knew Charlie was wondering whether the Martin case impacted his own…if what he had could be considered a case. He wasn’t a part of anyone’s investigation, no police report had been filed, and if he had enemies, he wouldn’t remember them anyway.

“Charlie?” he asked softly.

“I’m okay.”

Seth had no choice but to take Charlie at her word. Not that she’d have let him comfort her if she was upset, but it was worth being the one to break their silence to let her know he was there.

Seconds later, the dimly lit room went dark as Charlie turned off the light one last time. For one idiotic moment, Seth thought he heard her sob.

Nah. She’s not the type. No woman who faces down…how did she put it? Street thugs, murderers and rapists. That woman wouldn’t let something like a witness’s demise get to her like that.

She’d had more restful nights sleeping on her father’s lumpy couch, less doubts about herself at thirteen, when all her friends were getting their periods and she was the Lone Ranger with a flat chest and no visits from Mother Nature.

Nothing like driving through a blistering storm, having the man who proposed to you turn you down in bed and your partner calling with news that your cold case just went into deep freeze—all within a matter of hours. How did the old saying go? A day that had been a total waste of makeup.

Her one consolation was that she and Seth would soon be flying home, that she could get back to work on the Martin case and either investigate Wanda Schoonover’s murder or regrettably close the darned thing out, chalking up months of hard work to just that, tons of work on a job that just didn’t bring the desired results. Not all of them turned out well—she knew that when she joined the department.

And what of Seth Taggart? Was she willing to give up on the one relationship in her life that had held promise, hope, desire and passion? The hell of it was that he hadn’t abandoned her…them. Nothing like that. It was simply as if they’d never existed, never loved.

The relationship hadn’t died, so there was no body to mourn, no goodbyes left unsaid, just the memories that—in the only analogy she could conjure—were becoming more and more like some pastry with the filling torn out of it. She knew what she’d tasted had been sweet, and she’d looked forward to devouring all of it, but after one bite, she found herself betrayed. Not by the food itself, but by some invisible yet painfully tangible knowledge that she was left empty and wanting. And there didn’t seem to be a damned thing she could do about it.

The storm had died, and the two of them still had much to do before boarding their return flight, but Charlie resented having to work in the same clothes she’d worn the day before when she had clean clothing, toiletries, makeup and perfume back at the other hotel.

Seth didn’t look much better than she felt. He’d hung his clothing in the bathroom and let steam from his morning shower help with some of the wrinkles and signs of usage, but she’d seen him looking more rested and fresh.

They had all but avoided one another since rising. Whereas they’d at least been civil the night before, even after she’d handcuffed him and he’d rebuffed her, the tension between them today was a thick fog of misunderstanding and unspoken feelings. She had half a mind to toss him back onto the bed and force him to deal with her before they drove across town to see what the staff of Hotel Álcazar had to say about Ms. Lawson’s short stay there.

“I know it seems I’m always apologizing for not feeding you,” Seth began, “but I just want to get out of here, check with the hotel and see what we can do about piecing some of this together if that’s okay.”

“Sure.” She knew how he felt. Business first, then pack and get home.

Seth, however, surprised her. “I want to spend another day here.”

Charlie scoffed. “I can’t take off work.”

“You don’t have to be back until Monday. Tomorrow is Friday so that gives us plenty of time if we take the red-eye home Sunday night. I promise I’ll treat you to some decent meals, even give you that bourbon and backrub you said I owed you. But we can get more accomplished here than we can back in Houston.”

He hadn’t said please, but she could see a hint of imploring behind those smoky-colored eyes.

“Seth, if this is about last night, there’s no need for…”

He stopped what he was doing and walked toward her. At first, she thought he was about to kiss her, but he lifted his arms and caught a towel falling off the rack directly behind her that would have landed on her head.

Slowly, he replaced the item, his body pressing against hers, triggering her response to flee. When he looked down the length of his nose at her, she knew he saw the heat coming from her face. Why couldn’t she keep from blushing every time he was near?

Seth’s lips parted. “I know that. This isn’t an apology or a goodwill gesture.”

She felt her nostrils flare as she remained silent, refusing to let her wounded heart overcome her common sense. “Then what is it?”

He dipped his head, brushing his mouth against hers. “You tell me.” She felt his hands resting gently on her shoulders then tensing when their lips touched.

Seth’s tongue flicked out to taste her lips. “All I know is that I’ve done my best to keep from hurting you. Then you talk to Julio, or whoever he is, on the phone, and the two of you seem thick as thieves. Maybe I’m jealous. Maybe I’m just weak where you’re concerned.”

The aching she’d felt the night before flared, a monster needing to be fed, nurtured. Damn it, but she didn’t need this complication.

“William…” She pushed away from him.

“William can damned well wait,” Seth said, drawing her back into his arms. “He’s been well paid, fed and more than compensated for having to sleep alone in a nice, big bed instead of on the floor. He’s in the car, but he’s on the clock.”

Charlie felt a twinge of guilt for Seth’s reference to the previous night’s sleeping arrangements, and she braced herself for the next kiss, but she wasn’t prepared, not by a long shot. What was he trying to do? Undermine her emotional stability, divert her capacity to think like a cop, weaken her defenses against him…what? Couldn’t the man tell she was already shaken?

“Oh!” she cried. “Please, no more. Like you say, we have a lot to do today.”

He looked at her coolly, but she could see the embers of desire still smoldering in his eyes. She may have been granted a reprieve, but he obviously had intentions to finish the discussion they’d started the night before, and when it happened, it’d most likely be on his terms instead of hers.

Seth handed the hotel manager Marjorie’s photo, half-expecting him to shake his head and deny remembering anything, so Seth was surprised that not only did the man remember her, he had held some of her things she’d never returned to collect.

“What are the odds?” mused Charlie. Even she appeared shocked.

Seth was glad he’d convinced her to spend another night in Guadalajara. Maybe something in the sealed box of clothing and papers contained information that could help both of them. Seth with learning more about his true identity, Charlie with the Martin case.

He’d been reluctant to press her for details. Instinct told him she couldn’t, and wouldn’t, divulge privileged information, but he was curious to know about Martin and why the case had managed to get under her skin. Seth had a feeling Charlie hadn’t had many cases she couldn’t solve and that her pride was more on the line than her job should she not succeed.

While they waited for Lawson’s things, a wave of nausea hit him, and Seth turned quickly to avoid having Charlie notice. He blinked against the sudden bright light and the ringing in his ears.

What light? he asked himself. No light when your eyes are closed. He rubbed his fingertips against his temples and tried steadying his breathing… In, out, more deeply each time… Slow it down, start, stop, you are in charge, even of your breathing.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Charlie standing at the hotel registration desk studying a pamphlet left on the counter, and for a moment it was as if they were elsewhere. Houston.

He frowned. He pictured her in tight, skinny jeans and a pair of dingo boots, a soft cowl-neck sweater covering her torso. She was laughing, stopping to smell flowers a Mexican woman proffered.

Seth blinked again. No, the image was still there. I must be remembering something. He had no problem differentiating between the Charlie in Houston and the one in Mexico—it wasn’t as if he was blending the two images into one. He smiled as he realized he was simply recalling something, a happy time with her.

She replaced the pamphlet then turned and looked into his eyes—her own were troubled, but for a moment he caught the glimmer of something he recognized. Longing. He’d seen that look, right after they’d made love the first time, then gone to a street festival, inside the Loop.

“What?” she asked, walking toward him.

“I think I remembered something,” he said reflexively, not meaning to draw her into his thoughts just yet. “The Loop. It’s the six-ten highway loop, right?”

She smiled. “Yeah. What made you think of that?”

He shook his head. “I’m still working on it.”

The hotel manager returned and placed a medium-sized cardboard box on the desk between him and them. “These are things left in the room. One of the bellboys is bringing ’round the luggage. He had to dust it off where something had spilled on it.”

Charlie glanced at Seth sharply, and he knew what she was thinking. Something had spilled. What if it had been evidence of some sort, something that had DNA? He brushed aside the thought. Whatever had spilled was most likely something recent, something one of the hotel workers had inadvertently dropped back in storage. Too late now anyway. Whoever had the luggage had probably wiped it clean and would be there any second.

Seth motioned toward the box. “I’ll get that—just leave it there until the luggage arrives. It most likely has a pull so you won’t have a bulky suitcase to carry. Think we can manage?”

She nodded. “Sure.”

The truth. Charlie stretched and clasped her hands behind her neck, cradling her head against her palms. She and Seth had been pouring over the same photos and papers for nearly two hours, and she didn’t feel any closer to solving Martin’s murder or getting a grip on Lawson’s than she had before she arrived in Guadalajara.

The storms had completely passed, leaving in their wake an eerie calm, with soft rain drizzling in fat droplets that barely made a sound on their open window. Seth stood at the open doorway with his back turned to her, his shoulders squared, hips tucked, like a general surveying a battlefield.

She’d struggled to remain calm when he’d remembered something as trivial as the Loop. Didn’t mean he remembered her. Just meant his mind was allocating fragmented memories to certain quadrants of his brain, pigeonholing bits of information in case he needed or wanted them later. She wished he’d wanted her badly enough to recall times with her. Maybe he did and wasn’t telling her.

Charlie stifled an indelicate snort. Wouldn’t that be a convenient way of ditching a relationship that no longer worked? But it had, damn it.

She still couldn’t keep from comparing mental notes, that both Martin and Seth had something in common…Mexico. What was here that drew both men? Business? Pleasure? A combination of both?

Wanda Schoonover had been adamant about George Martin’s reluctance to travel that day to Mexico, almost as if he was afraid of what might happen. He was supposed to have met with a party at the airport to give him his business information, since his boss, Damien Rogers, was out of the office that week. Rogers, however, had said that all Martin was picking up was his assignment and that the woman who had hired him as an escort had disappeared. That’s where the real confusion began. If the police and doctors felt Seth had been riding in the car with Lawson, where did that leave Martin? Could Seth have been sent to replace him with Lawson?

“You’re sure you don’t remember anything other than her face?” she called.

Seth turned to face her, leaned against the doorjamb and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “No. Wish I did.”

“How about the shots Heather took for me of the men at the restaurant?” she asked hopefully.

He indicated the strewn papers on the table before her. “We’ve gone over everything at least twice—there’s nothing in there about me. Not much about her, for that matter.”

Charlie swallowed her disappointment. “Then we’re at a dead end. There’s no place to go from here except back to Houston.”

His face was unreadable, but his eyes held disappointment. “You want to get home that badly?”

Charlie shrugged. “Might as well, unless you can think of a reason to stay.” She bit her lip and turned back to face the table, aware of how provocative her words had sounded, even to her own ears. That wasn’t where she’d meant to go with him, not at this stage. He’d already turned her down once—she wasn’t about to try twice.

She felt more than heard him move away from the door, and her heart beat faster as he approached. The table was a mess, with the paperwork in no specific order, photos of his own accident displayed in a montage with copies of Lawson’s and Martin’s head shots, their own police reports, crime photos, records of phone calls from Lawson to no-name cell phones, the photos Heather had taken, a disarray of sticky notes… It was all a blur.

Then he touched her. His hands rested gently on her shoulders, his thumbs at the back of her neck, gently pressing, massaging. The fingers on her collarbone. Did she feel them tremble slightly? She didn’t dare look over her shoulder, less out of fear for what she’d see in his eyes than what he’d observe in hers. Her quandary, her damned insecurity, her need.

The pressure he exerted intensified slightly, and soon she couldn’t help but tilt her head in the opposite direction when she felt his breath against one side of her neck. Closing her eyes, she remembered, even if he couldn’t. She inhaled the musky maleness, the air as it softly escaped his nostrils, and her pulse jumped when she detected that he was as deep into the mist as she, that he wanted her, regardless of his doubts.

It happened so fast that she wasn’t aware of leaving her seat, of turning to face him. His arms were about her in a flash, lifting her, holding her, his head bending as his lips parted.

Charlie’s legs felt shaky, too limp to support her, and her arms were weak, barely able to cling to him as he devoured her, his breath mingling with hers, his lips setting hers afire with a blistering kiss that consumed all rational thought.

Groaning, he clutched her, his hands fisting at the base of her spine, pressing her into him, leaving no doubt as to his body’s craving. The thrill of feeling Seth’s hard heat burning her, his entire being melding with hers, was her undoing.

She didn’t care what happened at this point, as long as he didn’t stop kissing her. She didn’t care if he remembered her or not, as long as he held her like this, as if his desire for her was a never-ending well of want and need.

This time when he kissed her, she asked no questions, didn’t want to know, was too far gone. His touch was bliss, lifting her, carrying her, cradling her, protecting her. For once, her inquisitive mind took a backseat to her heart, and she ran with the unknown, the undiscovered. The Seth she knew no longer existed, and in his place was an exciting stranger.

He picked her up and carried her to his room, settling her on the bed while continuing to kiss and caress her. His hands cupped her bottom and held her in place, and his mouth moved from her lips to her throat, her breasts. He lifted her shirt and bent to suckle her through the flimsy lace and silk of her bra. Charlie moaned and squirmed, unable to hold still. Her own hands fumbled with his zipper.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispered against her mouth. He kissed her again, leaving her breathless, and then he spent what seemed like hours of bliss nibbling her throat, breasts and stomach. When he moved to kiss between her thighs, she struggled for clarity, fearing that it wouldn’t be long before she wouldn’t care what he did.

“What about…?” She hesitated to shatter the moment, but safe sex demanded they pause.

He grinned and fished out two foil packets she recognized from the motel’s complimentary condom basket in the bathroom.

Charlie giggled and helped him rip open one of the packets. She couldn’t speak, could only nod and kiss every place of his body that came near her mouth as he moved above her, stripping them both of the remainder of clothing that separated their bodies.

She’d held out, waited, hoping he’d want her, afraid to encourage him, much less rush him, and now she couldn’t wait to feel his body moving inside her, his skin pressed against hers, his hips thrusting in tandem with hers.

Seth didn’t disappoint. His fingers probed gently but urgently, opening her, readying her, preparing her for his entrance, and once he settled into her, he closed his eyes, a deep growl escaping his lips. His shoulders tensed beneath her fingers, and the movement of corded muscles throbbing with unleashed rigidity was her undoing. Charlie became liquid heat, a raging fire exploding all around him, uncontained, and she felt as if she’d burn forever.

She rocketed, feeling his hands gripping her, his energy joining with hers, transforming, transcending, their combined fury surpassing anything she’d ever felt.

Both of them shook with spasms, quivering with release then aftermath, and Charlie clung to Seth as shockwaves evaporated into blissful mists, cushioning and comforting her, rocking her gently back to earth.

Seth kissed her sweetly then rolled onto his back, taking her with him.

She wrapped one arm about his waist and snuggled as he stroked her back. This wasn’t as she remembered—it was better.

Seth kissed the tip of her nose. “Now aren’t you glad we stayed over another night?”

In answer, she threaded her fingers through his hair, bringing his face closer to hers, and she wet her lips. “What do you think?”

He grinned. “Don’t suppose you’d mind waiting a second or two? A man can only do so much, you know, without…”

She leaned forward and nibbled his bottom lip, her hand snaking between them to grasp him where he surely least expected it. “I can’t wait. I want you now, Seth.”

He sputtered for a moment, and when he recovered, he feigned resistance, acting like she was forcing him to do something he despised.

“Nag, nag, nag.” He dove under the covers, kissing her breasts, stomach and inner thighs.