She blinked, surprised. She'd thought Hank had destroyed her passion for any man. What was different about this guy?

He removed his Stetson, revealing short, sable hair. The pressure of his hat in the searing heat of the New Mexico summer afternoon had stuck his hair to his skull.

Rubbing his scalp, he asked, "Lori Perkins?"

Serenity took the question like a punch to the gut. Pleasure fled, blown away like dust in the desert wind. She shrank back, craving the solidity of the doorpost behind her.

She hadn't used that name in close to a year and didn't want to hear it now. She gazed at him while breathing deeply to recapture a calm state of mind. "I'm afraid you've made a mistake. Excuse me."

She tried to close the door, but he stuck his booted toe in the way. "You're Lori Perkins. I've seen a picture of you."

Resignation filled her chest, a frightful, leaden weight. "Who are you?" she managed to whisper.

He hesitated. His Adam's apple bobbed. Bambi-brown eyes looked too gentle for his craggy face. He shifted from side to side; his heels crunched on the gravelly stoop.

"I don't rightly know, ma'am." His twang reminded her of home.

A tremor ran through her body. Texas was the past, something she wanted to forget. Worse and worse. "You don't know what?"

"My name. I was hoping you could help me." He swayed slightly. "I...I woke up in the desert, and I remembered your name and address."

Fear clutched, its icy fingers clawing at her wits. Serenity sucked in a deep breath, commanding her body to quit trembling and her mind to function. She had to discover who this man was and how he found her. "Do you have an I.D.?"

"Huh?" He stared, glassy-eyed.

"Turn around."

He did. Hmm, she thought. The left back quarter of his jeans showed a lean, shapely buttock. A faded square marked the place in the back pocket where ninety-five out of one hundred men kept their wallets. Vanished, it would provide no answers, reveal no secrets.

"Why do you know my name, but not your own?"

Turning to face her, he opened his hands in a helpless gesture.

"Bend down. Maybe you took a whack to the head."

"I do have a headache." He obliged, leaning over from the waist.

Serenity gingerly ran her fingers through his thick, dark hair, catching his male, musky scent while she parted the locks. He jerked as she contacted sticky wetness.

"Oh, my." At his temple, a lump the size of a half-dollar oozed blood. It looked bad.

She released him, then regarded him thoughtfully as he swayed, obviously ill, on her doorstep. If she sent him away, he could die. In his current weakened condition, without remembering the reason he'd been sent to find her, she was sure she could keep him under control.

"Hmm. You know me, but I don't know you...and you don't know you. Well, you've come to the right place." Serenity opened the door wider, inviting him inside.

"How's that? Do you know me?"

Her mind raced. What could she tell him? "Umm, no, but I'm a psychic. Don't worry about a thing--the cards see all, know all, and have all the answers. And if the cards don't tell us what we want to know, we can always try the crystal ball or the ouija board. Don't worry--something will work."

He gulped. That Adam's apple again. He was positively edible, this amnesiac cowboy who'd turned up on her doorstep like a tumbleweed.

Serenity reminded herself that he couldn't be the only person who knew the location of Lori Perkins. Feeling exposed while standing outside, she retreated into her home.

Her stomach clenched and twisted. How had this stranger found her? She bet he'd been sent to check her out and report back to--back to--

Her mind flinched away from the thought of Hank.

Until she figured out what to do, she'd keep this stranger close. In his befuddled condition, she was sure she'd remain safe...at least for a while.

# # #

He remembered to duck as he entered Lori Perkins' house, but that was about all he remembered.

That, and the woman...

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From the book The Ranger and the Rescue By Sue Swift
Imprint and series: Silhouette Romance Publication Date: 2002
ISBN 0373195745 Copyright 2001 by Sue Swift
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