She stared into eyes. Recognition flared in the depths of those green gems. And that connection they’d had from the very start, from the first second they’d met so long ago, burned hot and bright, warming him in places he hadn’t even realized had gone cold.

All this time. All these years…

“Annie,” he whispered.

Her eyes darkened. The recognition fled. Was quickly replaced with confusion and…fear.

Before he could stop her, she jerked out of his arms, took a big step back. Held her arms out in a very clear don’t-touch-me move. “No.” She swallowed, looked from face to face with her brow drawn low, took another step away. “No, my name is Kate. Kate Alexander.”

Pain slashed through him. He tried to reach for her again, but Julia tugged hard on his arm, stopping him. “Dad, I told you it’s not her. It just looks like her. Dad, Daddy, listen to me. It’s not her.”

Not her? It had to be her. It had to be…

“Annie—”

She dodged his grip. And his heart felt like it shattered against the pavement at his feet. “I…I was hoping to ask you a few questions. I can see this isn’t a good time. I’ll just leave—”

“No!” Ryan and Mitch both said at the same time.

She jumped. Froze. Looked from face to face in bewilderment.

Holy God, it had to be her. It sounded like her. Ryan could never forget that voice. He didn’t know what the hell was going on but he didn’t want to scare her off. To keep from reaching for her, he scrubbed his hands over his face. Closed his eyes, shook his head, opened them again. She was still there. She wasn’t a figment of his imagination.

Why wasn’t she throwing herself into his arms? Why was she standing there looking at him as if he were a stranger?

“No,” Mitch said again, holding out his hands. “No, now’s fine.”

Her attention shifted his way. “Who are you?”

She didn’t know Mitch? She had to know her brother. She was Annie.

“Mitch Mathews. Ah, his brother-in-law.” Mitch nodded at Ryan. “Her…Annie’s…brother.”

Her brow wrinkled, then her green eyes grew wide. “Mitch Mathews. The geologist?”

A sly smile spread across Mitch’s mouth. “Yeah, same one.”

“Oh. Well.” A nervous look crossed her face. A face that Ryan now saw was different from what he remembered. Different but still familiar. “This is a little awkward. I, ah, I had no idea.” She ran a hand over her hair.

Ryan’s stomach tightened. It was the same unconscious gesture Annie always made when nervous.

“Me, either,” Mitch said. They studied one another for a minute. “I got your message.”

A rose tint stained her cheeks. “Well, you, ah, seemed a little fired up about the article. I guess I just responded…badly, I might say now, in light of the situation.”

Mitch grinned. Why the hell was he grinning?

“What are you two talking about?” Ryan asked, looking from one to the other. He felt like he was being hammered by prize-fighters from all sides, and they were acting like they knew each other. If Mitch had known Annie was so close and hadn’t told him—

“This is the editor, Ryan, the one I told you about. The one who wrote that article.”

Ryan looked back at her—at his Annie. At the woman who couldn’t be anything but his Annie. Why was she acting as if she didn’t know him? Why wasn’t she grabbing Julia, hugging her tight? Hugging him tight? Holding on to him like he needed to hold on to her?

As questions tumbled through his mind and he scanned her features again, he realized what looked different. Her nose was thinner, her cheekbones a little higher, and there was a scar near her temple he didn’t remember.

Editor. The one who wrote that article. Kate Alexander.

His chest pinched tight. Was it possible this woman wasn’t Annie?

His mind skipped to the conversation he’d had with Mitch in his office, and confusion replaced shock. “The nut-job?”

“Excuse me?” She shot a glare his way.

Mitch laughed. “No, no. It’s nothing. Just a joke. Ah, this is a little awkward. You…you look a lot like my sister. We’re all a little flustered, I think.”

What the hell was Mitch saying? She was his sister. Wasn’t she?

“Why don’t we go inside,” Mitch suggested. “You can tell us what this is about. Come on.” He motioned for the house. She eyed Ryan with suspicion, then stepped well out of his reach and up next to Mitch.

Ryan turned, stared after her as they headed for the house. Tried to clear his head. Was it possible someone else could look so much like his wife? Sound like her? If she wasn’t Annie, what was she doing here? Was this some kind of sick joke?

The sway of her step caught his attention. And his heart took a hard, sharp roll. She was built just like Annie, same strong legs and perfectly toned ass. She even walked like her.

Fate could not be so cruel. God could not be this cruel. There had to be an explanation. Pain lanced through his chest, speared what was left. He’d listen to whatever she had to say for Mitch’s sake. Then she was gone. He couldn’t take this in-your-face reminder of everything he’d lost.

He followed them into the living room where the leather couches Julia had helped him pick out formed an L-shape. She stood in the center of the room, staring out at the skyline of San Francisco for several seconds, then turned and glanced around the room. He didn’t know what she was looking at—or for—but as her gaze swept over the photos of Julia, of Mitch, of Annie, Ryan’s patience reached a tipping point.

Julia tugged on his arm, whispered, “Daddy” in a pleading voice, but he ignored her.

“Why are you here, Ms…what was your name again?”

She visibly jolted, then turned to face him, and from the way her green eyes widened, he knew the shock was gone from his face and had been replaced with the ice he felt inside. The ice he’d built up over the years just so he could survive.

He watched her pull up some invisible shield, watched her eyes harden as if she were looking at a complete stranger. As if the connection they’d shared in the street had never happened. “Your wife died in a plane crash, about five years ago, is that right?”

When he didn’t answer, she added, “And she died here in San Francisco. Is that correct?”

“You already seem to know the answers to these questions. Why are you here?” he asked again.

“A year and a half ago, I was in an accident that landed me in a coma.” She lifted her hand, rubbed at a spot on the side of her head. “When I woke up in a Dallas hospital, I couldn’t remember the accident or anything about my life before it. The doctors said the trauma did something to my long-term memory. Retrograde amnesia, they called it. I’d been told I was in a car accident. But now, I’m not so sure.”

“Why not?” Mitch asked, watching her closely too.

She glanced his way. “My husband died in that plane crash here a few weeks ago. After, when I was going through some of his papers, I found evidence that suggests I was in a nursing home here in San Francisco during that coma, not in Texas like I’d been led to believe. And that the coma had lasted close to three years, not four days. I’m not sure why my husband lied, or what it all means, but I came here to San Francisco looking for answers. I went to see a lawyer today for advice. The woman recognized me, said I looked a lot like Anne Harrison.” She glanced back at Ryan. “Your wife.”

Ryan’s head spun, and his pulse beat so hard it was a roar in his ears. The story was ludicrous. Insane. No way it was real.

“Who was the lawyer?” Mitch asked.

“Simone Conners.”

Mitch’s eyes found Ryan’s. He knew what Mitch was thinking. But it couldn’t be her. Yeah, she looked a lot like her, but now that the shock was gone he could tell she wasn’t the same. Annie’s nose had been different, her cheeks not as sharp. Maturity could change a person’s face and shape, but it didn’t reshape bone structure. Besides which, Annie was gone. She’d died in that crash. They’d buried her. It didn’t matter that they’d never had a body. No one had survived that crash.

“Simone’s thinks you might be Annie,” Ryan said. “That’s why you’re here.”

“No. Not exactly. In fact, she doesn’t know I’m here. She told me not to come, but I…” She bit her lip, then reached into her purse. Her eyes cut to Julia, standing at Ryan’s side, and a protective urge bubbled through him, one that made him want to tug his daughter tight to his side. With trembling fingers, she held a photo out to him. “I found this in a lockbox in my house.”

Hesitantly, Ryan reached for the picture. Looked down. And felt his entire world tip right out from under him.

Julia’s eyes widened as she glanced at the photo in his hand. “That’s me.”

Ryan’s head darted up. When she turned to look at Julia and tucked her hair behind her ear, he caught sight of a faded strawberry birthmark just below her left ear where her jaw met her neck. An upside down heart. One he’d kissed and licked and nibbled so many times he knew it as if it were his own.

Hope burst into flame in his chest. It was her. She was alive. She was…

He moved to reach for her. She stepped back to avoid his touch, and when her gaze fell on his, the look in her eyes registered. No recognition. No love. Nothing but emptiness and distrust.

Her reaction in the street slammed back into him. And that hope was quickly doused with ice.

Accident. Retrograde amnesia… Alive.

Sickness pushed up his esophagus. The room closed in around him as it had at her funeral, when the reality that he’d lost her forever had hit him like a ton of bricks.