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nothing came out. Was this man her enemy or her friend? She watched as the muscles of his arm flexed with each movement of his hands.
    If he was her enemy, she didn’t stand a chance.
    Please, let him be my friend.
    “I can’t remember where I live,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. He met her eyes with his calm, steely stare, clearly waiting for her to continue. She took a deep breath. “I don’t remember if I have a cat, or a dog. I don’t know if I live alone,” she dropped her eyes, “or with someone else. The first thing I remember is waking up this morning.”
    She felt herself begin to come apart. Her face crumpled. “What’s happening to me?” she cried. Her hands were trembling and she took gasping breaths of air. She grabbed the bowl and vomited, horrified that he was there watching her be sick.
    He moved to her and tucked her hair behind her ear, making her squirm away.
    “It’s okay,” He said, touching her arm.
    She pulled away from him and stood, cradling the bowl, her head reeling from the movement. “It is not okay! Nothing is okay. Everything is wrong. Who are you, anyway?”
    “Trevor Hawkins.”
    “You said that already. I mean, who are you? Why did you bring me here?”
    “I told you, there was an accident.”
    “Bullshit.”
    He narrowed his eyes and took a step toward her. “What do you think happened?”
    She lifted her chin, her mind searching for a reason not to tell him the truth, and finding none. “I think you drugged me. You slipped something into my drink and you took me here against my will.”
    “Why would I do that?”
    Blood flooded her cheeks, heat filling her face. “To take advantage of me.” She forced her eyes to remain on his as his stare slipped lower, taking in her body with cool assessment.
    “The women I sleep with don’t have to be drugged, Olivia.” He closed the distance between them.
    What would she do if he tried to touch her, or worse?
    He leaned down and picked up the bowl, his body so close to hers she felt herself tremble.
    “I was on my way to visit a friend. I rounded a corner and there you were. Your car was stuck in the snow.” He walked past her and she exhaled the breath she’d been holding. The water ran in the kitchen, and she knew he was cleaning out the dirty bowl.
    She felt dirty, too. Cold and dirty and confused and aching. “Where’s the bathroom?” she called. “I want to take a bath.”
    “Down the hall on the left, but there’s no hot water. I’ll heat some on the stove for you.”
    She fingered the waffle weave of her pajamas. “Where are my clothes? I assume I wasn’t wearing long johns in the middle of a blizzard.”
    “Your clothes have blood on them. I’ll find you something clean to wear. There’s a whole closet full of clothes that should fit.”
    She nodded, instantly grimacing, then walked into the dark hallway. Her control over her emotions began to slip. Her mind worked frantically to recall something — anything — from before the accident.
    She locked the door behind her and leaned against it, instantly in a full-blown cry. It was as if her life had begun the instant she woke up. The pain was swirling through her, no longer focused just on her head but in her belly and back. A word hovered on the edge of her willingness to name it, a word more frightening than any she’d ever experienced.
    Amnesia.
    Everything she ever knew was gone. She had amnesia and she was stuck here with this overwhelming man who could scare the bejesus out of her one moment and wash out her vomit the next.
    Slipping down the door, she landed on the floor with a thud. Footsteps could be heard coming toward the bathroom.
    “Olivia, are you okay?”
    She leaned back against the locked door. This wasn’t happening. This awful day was nothing more than a bad dream, and she need only wake up to return to her regularly scheduled life. Her eyes drifted shut despite the pounding and Trevor calling her name. The noises