His Unforgettable Fiancée by Teresa Carpenter

obstinacy, swept over and grabbed the folder. “You have a head trauma. Even without the loss of memory, it’s going to take days to recuperate. You’ve learned enough until some of the pain has subsided. With the concussion you probably can’t read it anyway. And, no, you probably
don’t
wear glasses. I know you don’t want to keep hearing it, but a concussion isn’t something you can dismiss. It can mess with your vision.”
    Tucking the folder under her arm, she strolled to the kitchen. She set her purse on the open counter separating the kitchen and dining room and opened the full-size refrigerator. No water, but Watkins had warned them there were no refreshments stocked. In fact, the refrigerator was off, so she turned it on and then moved to the cupboards, where she found a square glass made of fine crystal and ran water into it.
    “Drink.” She set the glass on the counter. “You need to stay hydrated. I find when I’m taking pain medicine it helps to drink lots of water.”
    He stalked up to the counter, pushed the water aside and held out his hand. “Give me the folder.”
    “No.”
    “I’m the boss.”
    “Except when it affects your health. Then I have veto power. Veto.”
    “Grace.”
    “JD.” Shoot, shoot. She really needed to remember to use his name. Now she’d lost her edge. Pretending she hadn’t, she lifted her chin and countered. “Jackson.”
    He pressed his lips together. “You can call me JD.”
    “No, we both need to get used to Jackson.”
    He couldn’t argue with that, so he didn’t. But his hand still demanded the folder. Stubborn.
    “Okay.” She took a page from the folder, glanced at it and set it in front of him. “Read me the last paragraph.”
    He picked up the paper, looked at it, moved it forward, moved it back. “It’s referencing the Las Vegas property.”
    “Yes. Now read the address.”
    He scowled at the paper, then tossed it down. “Maybe I do need glasses.”
    “No glasses, no contacts. Not according to your California driver’s license.” She tucked the page back in the folder. “It’s the concussion, Jackson. It’s not a weakness, it’s just something you have to get through. I know it chafes, but right now resting is the best thing you can do to help yourself.”
    His eyes narrowed and focused intently upon her. Gaze locked on her, he prowled around the end of the counter, the action so predatory she forced her feet not to retreat.
    When he got within a foot and kept coming, she planted a hand on his chest. It didn’t stop him. He clasped her hand, drew it down to the side and invaded her space.
    “What are you doing?” She reared back.
    “This.” He lowered his head and took her mouth with his.
    She stiffened. This was not a good idea. But he stood back, claiming her with his mouth only. He lulled her by taking it slow, keeping it easy. He tilted his head to the perfect angle. His lips were moist, soft, mobile, exerting the right amount of pressure. He lingered, seducing her slowly, until she deepened the kiss by stepping into him.
    His arms came around her pulling her against him and his tongue swept over her bottom lip seeking entrance. Closing her eyes, she sank into sensation. Her surrender motivated him to heighten the caress to the next level, building heat and passion until she strained against him, wanting to be closer, needing more.
    She forgot to breathe and didn’t care. His touch mattered, his taste. A silly thing like air could wait.
    He eased back. Chest heaving, he kissed her on the temple. Then released her.
    She blinked at him. Was he stopping? Now? Uh-uh. She stepped into him again. This time he caught her hands to keep her from touching him. He shook his head, moved away.
    “What the heck, JD?”
    He reached for the glass of water and drained it. “You’ll have to forgive me. I didn’t mean for it to go so far. After days of lacking memories and feeling like an invalid, I needed to do something that made me feel good