Permanent memory loss. Coma. Three years.

Choking back tears, she continued flipping through the forms. Her stomach pitched when she saw Jake’s signature on several of the papers. He’d been an attending physician.

Her attending physician.

No, no, no. Her husband never would have been allowed to oversee her recovery. Never. Not in a million years. She wasn’t a doctor, but she knew the rules.

Sweat beaded on her neck, trickled down her back. There had to be an explanation. Something. Anything!

She lifted each paper out of the box in an urgent need to find the truth. Questions continued to swirl in her mind, memories she wasn’t sure were real or contrived. When she drew out the last paper, the floor moved under her feet.

Her legs buckled, and she dropped into the chair. In the bottom of the box rested a photo. Her breath clogged in her throat. With shaking fingers, she extracted the picture, just as a stabbing pain cut right through her heart.

It was a photo of a young girl, roughly five years of age. She was sitting on a boat. Water sparkled behind her. Trees glinted off in the distance. A young girl with a disturbingly familiar face, a curly mop of brown hair, and the greenest eyes Kate had ever seen.

Kate’s eyes. The same shape, size, color…the same exact eyes Kate stared at everyday in the mirror.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

The air clogged in her lungs. And a place deep inside told her this girl couldn’t possibly be anything other than her daughter.

Chapter Two

Ryan Harrison tucked a towel around his waist as he walked through his hotel suite. He picked up the remote on the bed and flipped on the TV, then ran another towel through his dripping hair as he searched for CNN.

The shower still ran in the bathroom, but it didn’t drown out the heavily accented lyrics to “Come What May” from Moulin Rouge. She always sang when she was satisfied. He, on the other hand, didn’t feel like singing. What he really wanted was coffee. He thought about calling room service, but the commotion on the television caught his attention before he could find the phone.

Lights flashed on the screen, people scrambled, sirens shrieked. A reporter relayed the news from yesterday as Ryan sat on the end of the bed and watched the coverage of the plane crash in San Francisco.

His heart beat hard. His palms grew sweaty where they gripped the towel. It was like watching Annie’s plane crash all over again. His stomach clenched at the memory, a sharp stabbing pain that cut right to the center of him.

His cell phone rang, startling him back to the present. Pushing to his feet, he ran a shaky hand over his face and pulled the screaming phone out of the slacks he’d tossed across the back of a chair only hours ago.

“Harrison.”

“You rat bastard.” Mitch Mathews’s deep voice boomed through the line, concern more than evident in his brother-in-law’s words. “Scared about ten years off my life. I’ve been calling you for hours. You see the news?”

Ryan couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the screen. “Yeah, just saw it.”

“Where are you?”

He glanced around the room. “New York.”

“Thank God. I thought you were flying out of San Francisco yesterday.”

“I was supposed to. Hannah rescheduled a meeting in LA. I flew there yesterday, then here after.” He caught the airline and flight number when the reporter said it again and swallowed the lump in his throat. “Jesus, that was my flight.”

“Son of a bitch,” Mitch muttered. “You gonna be okay?”

“What?” Ryan was having trouble thinking. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“When are you coming back?”

“Tonight, I think.” Ryan rubbed a hand over his forehead. “Julia’s gonna be pretty upset by this. Go by and see her, would ya? Your folks are at the house with her.”

“Yeah, sure thing. You might not be able to get a flight back into San Francisco.”

“I know. I’ll try Oakland or San Jose or Sacramento and drive. I want to get home.”

“Okay. Call me before you leave.”

“Will do. See ya.”

The water had stopped, and Monique’s voice was now louder as she sang with her sexy French accent.

Ryan closed his eyes and pressed the phone to his forehead. He didn’t want to be with her right now. A thousand thoughts and memories and feelings were flooding through him, and none of them were things he wanted to share with her.

She was an attractive woman and he enjoyed her company when it was convenient, but he had no desire to get to know her hopes and dreams. And he certainly didn’t want to share his with her. Or cry about his past. If there were two things he never discussed with anyone, they were his wife and daughter.

He turned back to the TV and clicked it off just as she stepped into the room. She wore a much-too-small towel wrapped around her curvaceous body, her wet, fire-red hair dripping down her back. A wicked smile spread across her lips.

“Mon cher.” She crossed the floor, her brick red-painted toes looking oddly like blood splatters on the plush, white carpet. “Je me suis ennuyé de vous.”

He knew enough French to know she was trying to lure him back into bed. He pulled away from her suffocating embrace. “I gotta go.”

She batted her long, exotic eyelashes and stuck out her swollen bottom lip in a sexy little pout she’d perfected over the years. “Non-sens. You said they aren’t even expecting you until after lunch. N’était pas par le passé assez. I want you again.”

Her English was good, but she always slathered on the accent when she was trying to seduce him. He headed for the bathroom. “Yeah, well, as tempting as that is, I have to get to the office.”

She followed, and when she rounded the corner, her eyes narrowed to see him already in his slacks.

“Bien,” she sighed in defeat. “I’ll just have to wait for you to get back tonight.” A bright red nail trailed down his bare chest and hovered at the top button of his slacks. Her eyes tipped up seductively to meet his.

He knew that look. And he knew she was going to be royally pissed in just a minute. “I’m not staying tonight. I have to fly home.”

Her arms crossed over her breasts—breasts just a little too perfect, ones she’d never admit having work done to. “Merde. You said you’d be in town a few days!”

“And I planned on it, but something came up. It’s family stuff. I have to get back.”

She threw up her hands and marched back into the bedroom. “Fils de chienne!”

He also knew enough French to know when she was swearing at him. He followed as he buttoned his shirt. “Look, I’ll make it up to you the next time you’re in California.”

“I don’t plan to be in California anytime soon. I’m here now, dammit!”

“I know, and I’m sorry. It’s just bad timing.” He reached for her hand, knowing he was being a dick, trying to soften at least a little of the blow. “Cut me some slack, okay?”

“Hybride, you don’t deserve it.” But she smiled when she said it. “Just this once. And I’ll expect you to make it up to me three-fold, mon cher.”

He kissed her cheek. She liked men. He wasn’t special. He also knew she’d find someone else to hang out with after he left, and it didn’t bother him in the least.

“Thanks.” He dropped to the end of the bed and reached for his shoes, itching to finish up his work and get home as soon as he could. “You’re a gem, Monique.”

* * *

Ryan pulled the car into the drive of his Sausalito house around seven a.m. the next morning, jet-lagged and exhausted. Getting home had proved to be more of a nightmare than he’d expected. Flights into SFO had been rerouted or canceled. Luckily, he’d managed to catch a red-eye into Sacramento, then picked up a rental car. As he grabbed his bags from the trunk, he steeled himself for what he’d find inside. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to Julia since the accident and he had no clue how she was reacting to it all.

Her bubbly laughter greeted him as he pushed the kitchen door open.

“Just roll the damn dice, would ya?” Mitch bellowed.

Julia giggled. “You’ll never beat me at this. I’m a pro.”

“There’s no such thing as a pro at Yahtzee. It’s pure luck.”

“No, it’s not. Yahtzee!” she shrieked as the dice settled. Mitch swore under his breath. “It’s skill, see, Uncle Mitch?”

“You’re not teaching my kid to swear, are ya?” Ryan forced a smile as he stepped through the door and glanced around the room. Julia looked up and grinned.

Mitch flashed the same deep dimple in his cheek he’d shared with his sister. “I save all the really bad words for when you aren’t around.”

“Hey, Dad!” Julia slipped off the chair and caught Ryan in a fierce hug. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming back for a few more days.”

“I finished early and thought I’d just come home.” He dropped his bag on a chair and eased down so they were at eye level. Then he ran his finger down her button nose, the one that was just like Annie’s. Every time he looked at her, he saw her mother. His heart took one giant roll. “I missed you.”

She frowned, and those knowing eyes of hers swept over him. “You came back because you were worried about me, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, so sue me. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Dad, really. You shouldn’t worry so much. It’s not good for your health. Gives you ulcers and can reduce your life span, not to mention pack on the pounds. And you’re not getting any younger you know. You have to start thinking about your weight. Besides, I’m practically a grown-up. I can handle stuff.”