Copyright © 2009 by Carol Ericson

Julia Rousseau -For four years, she’s had no memory of a past that gave her a four-year-old daughter, but when Ryder McClintock materializes, memories of danger-and desire-flood her senses.

Ryder McClintock -When he returns to Colorado on leave from his latest covert ops assignment, he’s stunned to discover the woman he loves…with no memory of their past together. Now he must reclaim her love, and his daughter, before a menace from Julia’s past destroys their future.

Jeremy Scott -Julia’s ex-husband and Ryder’s ex-coworker died in a fiery explosion four years ago, but his evil continues to overshadow their lives.

Dr. Jim Brody -Julia’s therapist seems to have more interest in getting close to Julia than helping her recover her memories.

Deputy Sheriff Zack Ballard -Do his suspicious actions link him to the threats against Julia, or does he have another secret?

Charlie Malone -This shy, bumbling mama’s boy has a crush on Julia and resents the new man in her life.

Rosie Fletcher -A dead-ringer for Julia, she holds an important key to Julia’s safety, but her amorous adventures put her life in danger.

Shelby Rousseau -Julia’s daughter is the one person who kept Julia grounded during the dark days of her amnesia. But as the terror that engulfs Julia spreads to her daughter, will it bring Julia and Ryder closer together or tear them apart?

Julia glanced in her rearview mirror at the car gaining on her and muttered, “Zut alors.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. She didn’t know she could speak French.

She tried out a few more phrases, clean ones this time, and the words tumbled from her lips in an accent worthy of Pepé Le Pew. Shelby would be thrilled her mom could talk like one of her favorite cartoon characters.

And Dr. Brody, Jim, would be thrilled with this latest discovery-another key to her past.

The glare from the insistent headlights illuminated her car again as she pulled out of the curve. Why did this guy have his brights on? She accelerated on the straightaway, gripping the wheel with clammy hands.

This highway through the mountains always gave her the jitters, ever since she plowed over the guardrail almost four years ago in a howling blizzard.

Her neighbors, the Stokers, cautioned her against taking night classes at the university to prevent her from driving this road after dark, but she had to move beyond her fears. Besides she needed this class to finish her general education requirements and start taking her upper-division psychology courses. She’d just taken her final exam and opted out of the summer session, so she wouldn’t have to make this drive at night until the fall.

The car behind her honked and she jumped, jerking the steering wheel to the right. Go around me, you moron. She didn’t plan on going any faster than the speed limit. Maybe he’d pass her on the next straightaway. All of the rush-hour traffic had cleared, leaving a handful of cars negotiating the turns and bends between Durango and Silverhill.

Coming out of the next turn, Julia buzzed down the window and waved her arm to motion the car around her. She eased off the gas pedal as the car made its move to her left. The sedan pulled into the empty oncoming traffic lane and slowed down next to her.

With her heart galloping, she glanced into the dark car as the driver rolled down the passenger window. A man with black hair and sunglasses leaned toward the open window and yelled. The wind snatched his words, but she could just make out, “Pull over. Flat tire. Lug nuts.”

She had a flat tire? The car dropped back and slid in behind her again. Turning down the radio with trembling fingers, she listened for any unusual thumping on the road. Her little car rolled smoothly on the asphalt, taking each turn with ease. How could she have a flat?

Biting her bottom lip, she peered into the rearview mirror at the blue sedan still riding her tail. Was this some kind of trick to get her to pull off the road? Maybe if the guy had a family with him she’d follow his advice, but she didn’t have any intention of stopping for some single guy in the middle of the night, especially some single guy wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night. Did he think he was Jack Nicholson or something?

Over the past three years, she’d finally put the freaks and weirdos behind her. She didn’t need to go looking for them.

She sped up to put distance between her car and the dark sedan behind her. Her tires squealed as she took the last curve on the highway and her car shuddered in the back. She gasped and squeezed the steering wheel. Maybe she did have a flat.

The light from Ben Pickett’s service station glowed at the bottom of the hill, and Julia’s pulse slowed to a steady beat. At nine o’clock Ben would still be working.

Careening into the parking lot, she angled her car in front of the brightly lit market. She hunched down in the seat and watched the dark sedan speed past the service station. Either the driver didn’t realize she’d stopped or he figured he performed his good deed for the night…or he knew he couldn’t strangle her at the service station.

She jumped at the tap on her window. Ben, his cap pulled low on his forehead, grinned at her.

Dragging in a breath, she powered down the window. “Hey, Ben.”

“You heading home after class?”

Living in Silverhill, everyone knew her business, but she didn’t mind. It gave her a sense of security. At least someone cared about her.

“Yeah, I am. A guy pulled up next to me and yelled out the window that I had a flat tire. The car wobbled when I came off the hill.”

“Well, let’s have a look.” He disappeared as he crouched behind her car and then his head popped up. “The tire ain’t flat, but the lug nuts on your right rear wheel are loose. I’ll tighten those right up.”

Ben got some tools, and Julia ambled into the market to get some coffee. She wrapped her hands around the steaming foam cup as she stepped into the cool night air to watch Ben work. Settling her shoulders against her car door, she gazed into the blackness where the road led into Silverhill. No sign of the dark sedan and the dark-haired man.

Why did he tell her she had a flat tire and how did he know the lug nuts were loose?

Unless he’d loosened them.

JULIA HATED secret admirers.

She crushed the wildflowers in her fist, the petals dropping like tears onto the porch and the sweet smell clinging to her fingers. Someone placed a similar bunch, tied with a pink ribbon, in the same spot two days ago. No note, no name.

Her gaze darted from her fenced-in garden to the street beyond. Nobody lingered to see if she received the gift. Nobody waved, claiming to be the thoughtful neighbor.

Julia hated secrets.

Taking a deep breath, she tilted her head back and drank in the view of tall mountain peaks ringing the cozy town of Silverhill. Their proximity instilled a sense of security deep in her bones. The Colorado Rockies kept the outside world at bay, creating a safe haven for her and her daughter in this little community.

The trees across the road rustled, and Julia narrowed her eyes as she scanned the greenery. The incident with the tire last week had her on edge. She’d asked around and a few people told her a loose wheel could resemble a flat tire on the highway. The man in the car was probably more Good Samaritan than Ted Bundy. But a single woman couldn’t be too careful. Especially a single woman with no memory.