Yet her hand lifted towards the bright colour. Whose was this? Riffling through the garments, she felt a jolt, as if from an electric shock. She paused, fingers clenching on the sleeve of a blue-grey jacket.
Greer gulped, fighting a roiling sensation in her stomach as she tugged it closer. Tingles ran up her arm and circled her neck, lifting her shoulders and making her gasp for air.
Holding the jacket to her, she collapsed onto the sofa in the middle of the room. She closed her eyes, bending forward, head almost at her knees as she fought sudden all-consuming wooziness.
Slow breaths out. She propped her head in one hand, the other hand still clutching the jacket. That was when she realised she recognised the feel of the fabric.
Eyes closed again, Greer lifted the jacket onto her lap, running her fingers over it. That sense of familiarity intensified. Without letting herself think, she undid the buttons and put it on, feeling it settle around her shoulders.
Another tingle lifted the hairs on her nape. Snapping her eyes open, she stood and spun around to face the full-length mirror. The jacket wasn’t meant to be worn over a towel, but itwasmeant to be worn by her. She’d had the waist taken in because she liked the tailored look.
Greer gasped as she remembered taking it to a little shop for the alteration. Collecting it in her lunch break. Wearing it to work and Conall stripping it off her that evening. He’d kissed her throat and told her he’d been waiting all day to touch her. His voice was thick with longing and she’d been scrabbling at his shirt, tearing the buttons undone as they fell back onto a bed.
Not the bed here. The one in his penthouse.
Greer stumbled back to the sofa and sank onto it again.
Her mind whirled, disjointed images chasing one another, even snippets of conversation.
Her apology for ripping off his buttons. Conall’s mock-severe tone as he said he’d have to make her pay for that, his smile slow and lascivious. Her surprise at seeing him, rumpled and sexy, sipping morning coffee on the penthouse terrace while he sewed the button back on.
His father, he’d said, had insisted all his children learn self-reliance. That included everything from changing a wheel to mending, feeding themselves and managing a spreadsheet. But Conall’s expression had held a grimness that made her glad she’d grown up with her mother and not his father.
Heart racing, Greer let the memories come, slowly at first. A flow of small, everyday things. She tried not to direct them, but was stunned by how many featured Conall.
He’d been the centre of her world for so long, hadn’t he? Now she was getting her answer to how she’d felt about him during those five months.
Her crush had become so much more. She’d tried to be sensible, but once she’d stepped beyond the constraints she’d set herself, it was like opening the floodgates. She couldn’t remember everything, but enough to know she’d secretly opened her heart to him.
In each new recollection he was as he’d always been. Focused, hardworking, but with a lurking humour that made her smile. Now there were more intimate memories too. Of his tender touches and powerful passion. Of his husky-voiced midnight loving. His off-key singing in the shower. And his smile that turned her knees to jelly.
Greer breathed deeply, telling herself to be satisfied with the disjointed snippets for now. It was a start. A wonderful start. Proof that her brain was healing and soon she’d be back to normal.
Relief burgeoned. She was light-headed with it. She wanted to race to Conall and tell him. But that was a conversation to be had in private, not while he was on a business call.
Yet she couldn’t just sit here. The excitement was too much. She’d go outside, explore the gardens and get some fresh air until he was free.
Greer carried the jacket back and placed it on its hanger. Her fingers brushed the poppy-red dress and she pulled it out, admiring the cut. The sound of laughter echoed in her ears and she remembered a buzz of happiness as she’d worn it. She and Conall had been out to see a play and had eaten later at a tiny Basque pintxos bar and restaurant in a narrow city lane. It had been romantic and fun.
That recollection decided her. She swapped the bath towel for the red dress, smiling as she twirled in front of the mirror. She looked forward to seeing Conall’s expression when he saw her in this.
As she turned, something pale caught her eye.
Another dress, another memory? It couldn’t be so easy. Yet she found herself cautiously approaching the item that hung by itself.
A step from the hanger she paused, doubt descending.
No, she wouldn’t push her luck. She’d be content for now with the memories that had already surfaced.
Yet Greer stood, frowning. She had no desire whatever to touch the dress. In fact, cold fingers gripped her shoulders, pinching them higher as she looked at it.
Which made no sense.
Something more powerful than common sense kept her where she was, a flutter of nerves filling her insides and her palms growing damp as she pressed them to her middle.
It was just a dress, ending around knee height. Fairly plain, but its subtle sheen made her think of raw silk. That seemed fitting, since it was the colour of pearls.
She was turning for the bedroom when a voice spoke in her head. Conall’s voice.For you, to mark our special day.
